The Phoenix Unchained (24 page)

AT half-past Morning Bells, the three of them rode out along the Old War Road. Simera was leading Thunder, as the pony seemed to like her better than it did either of the others.

“Lunch?” Harrier suggested cheerfully.

“It isn’t even Midmorning Bells yet,” Tiercel said with a groan.

“And we’re not stopping until we reach Fort Halacira,” Simera said firmly. “We’ll have lunch there, see Kellen’s Bridge, ask about the condition of the road east, and go on.”

“And ask after Wildmages,” Tiercel said with a sigh. He didn’t think they’d find any just waiting around at Fort Halacira, though.

“Might as well ask after unicorns,” Harrier said.

“If you want to,” Simera said.

FORT Halacira had once been a storehouse or a barracks—nobody was quite sure which—centered around extensive mines that were no longer worked. These days, Fort Halacira was a mill town. The River Angarussa gave power to the machines that ground grain and milled lumber for half the villages around, and they heard it long before they saw it.

“It’s louder than the Docks,” Harrier said, wincing.

“Just be glad we’re on the War Road and not the Delfier Road, or we’d have been run down by freight wagons half a dozen times already,” Simera pointed out. The road between Fort Halacira and Sentarshadeen was even more heavily-traveled than the road between Armethalieh and Sentarshadeen. “There will be less traffic north and east of here.”

“And fewer inns,” Harrier pointed out.

“The War Road goes as far as Ondoladeshiron, if you want to follow it,” Simera said. She looked at Tiercel.

He shrugged. “I have no idea.”
But I think I know how I can find out
.

Fort Halacira was used to travelers—both those who came on business and those who came to view the remains of the ancient monuments at the center of the town. The three of them stopped for a meal, then, at Tiercel’s insistence, went to see the old mine.

“It was built by Elves thousands of years ago,” Tiercel said.

“It’s a
mine
,” Harrier said.

Mine it might be, but it had been one of the Ancient Wonders of the Elven World, and the
Compendium
had mentioned the Jeweled Caverns in the chapter about Elves.

But when they got to it, there wasn’t much to see. Only a very large stone building that identified itself as the Fort Halacira Granary Stores and Office of the Magistrate. In front of the building’s imposing façade was a tall stone monument, crowned with the shape of the Eternal Light, which stated that upon this site had once stood Fort Halacira, an ancient stronghold of the Elves, where the Knight-Mage Kellen had fought a great battle against the Endarkened.

“So much for ancient history,” Harrier said with a rude snort.

“It was a very long time ago,” Simera said gently, looking at Tiercel’s face. Tiercel just shook his head. He knew he was stupid to be disappointed. It was ridiculous to think it would all still be
here
. He just needed it to be.

“Can I help you?” a young man asked, walking down the steps.
He was dressed in clerk’s robes, not a laborer’s tunic. Obviously he worked in the Magistrate’s office here, and was leaving the building on his way to his midday meal.

“Oh,” Tiercel said, blushing faintly. “I was just wondering. My friends and I . . . we’ve come from Armethalieh and we were wondering . . . is any of the old Fort left inside? The part that was built by the Elves?”

The young man smiled at them. It was obviously a question he was used to hearing. “Oh, no,” he said. “All that was cleared away a long time ago.”

KELLEN’S Bridge was less of a disappointment.

It was less than an hour’s ride north along the river, but the town had not grown in that direction, and though the Avribalzar Forest had long since vanished into the sawmills of Fort Halacira, the meadow that played along the Angarussa’s banks was sunlit and peaceful. Even the Light-shrine that stood beside the bridge was deserted at the moment.

“Made by magic,” Simera said. Even she sounded impressed.

“Huh,” Harrier said. He dismounted from Lightning and walked forward to take a closer look. “It looks like one piece of stone. Think you could do that, Tyr?”

“No.” Tiercel didn’t even have to think before he answered. Everyone knew the story of Kellen’s Bridge, where ice had turned to stone when Kellen had led his troops across the river to fight against the Endarkened. He wasn’t exactly sure, anymore, that it was true. It was a pretty story, though.

“Well, the War Road is on the other side,” Simera said firmly. “Let’s go.”

Unlike the War Road farther south, which was little-used and had few travelers, the War Road between Sentarshadeen and Ondoladeshiron
was the road that took most of the light traffic. The Avribalzar Road—wider and with a good stone foundation—had been constructed for heavy freight wagons and for driving the herds down from the northern pastures. This meant that while the road wasn’t exactly clogged with travelers, they met—and were sometimes passed—several times that day, and both Tiercel and Harrier had plenty of cause to be grateful that they had quiet gentle mounts. Horses who took exception to every cart—or other horse—on the road would have made things difficult.

“WELL?” Simera said. “Sun’s westering. And there’s an inn up ahead. Do we stop there and burn it down or freeze it out? Or do we turn off the road and look for some place to sleep under the stars?”

They had long since passed the last of the farms beyond Fort Halacira. The open country they rode through now, Simera told them, was devoted to the needs of cattle and sheep, and the few villages that tended to the needs of the drovers lay far from the road, built close by wells and open water. They would not return to true forest until they passed beyond Ondoladeshiron, assuming they continued heading eastward.

Both of them looked at him, and Tiercel realized that both of them were waiting for him to make a decision about what they should do next. He thought about it. It wasn’t as if they were actually going anywhere in particular. “Ride north until you find a Wildmage” wasn’t much of a destination. If they rode north for long enough, they’d bump up against the border of the Elven Lands—and then, he supposed, they’d have to turn back. It would take them a good long time to get there, though. He wasn’t really sure where it was. Nobody was. He supposed the Elves liked things that way. He wondered why.

But right now Harrier and Simera were waiting for him to make
up his mind. Not that they paid any attention to him most of the time. Simera was sure that neither of them could take care of themselves outside the bounds of a city, and while they were learning fast, she was more right than not, so half the time she ignored anything either of them suggested. And Harrier, well, ever since the day Harrier had fished him out of the Harbor when he’d been two and Harrier had been three, Harrier had gotten it fixed in his head that most of Tiercel’s ideas involved killing himself somehow, and once Harrier made up his mind about something, it was impossible to change it. Tiercel wondered if his friend might be right. His ideas hadn’t been turning out too well lately.

But now—
now
—the two of them wanted
him
to decide where they were going? Well, why not? Because if they weren’t actually going anywhere, one direction was almost as good as another, wasn’t it? And he didn’t want to get any more people in trouble than he had to.

“I don’t think we should sleep at any more inns,” he said slowly. The feeling he’d had of being watched was back. It had been gone in Sentarshadeen—while he’d stayed in The Temple of the Light—but it was back now. “And I’d like to head north.
Straight
north. Can we do that?”

Simera glanced up at the sun, taking her bearings. “I don’t see why not. Nobody will mind if we cross open land, and if the cattle can find water, so can we. Come on. See those trees in the distance? We’ll stop there for the night. From the look of the land, there’s a stream not too far beyond.”

NOT surprisingly, Simera had been right. By the time they reached the copse of old oaks, they could hear the sound of a stream a few yards beyond it. As they led the horses and the pony down to it for
an evening drink, Simera explained to Harrier what signs she had seen in the landscape to let her know the water was there.

“Your horse can lead you to water, of course,” she added. “But only if he’s thirsty enough. Silly beasts,” she added affectionately, stroking Cloud’s shoulder.

There was still a little light in the sky by the time they had the animals settled and their camp set up. By now, after a fortnight of practice, both Tiercel and Harrier were getting good at it, and the new equipment they’d bought in Sentarshadeen helped. Lanterns to light the camp at night. A cooking-brazier, so they would not always have to gather wood. With it they could heat soup or tea, make griddle-cakes and fry bacon.

Simera had also insisted on the purchase of a number of basic medical supplies, since while they didn’t really expect to ever be more than a day’s travel from an inn or a village, it was a good idea to be prepared. She’d also taken advantage of the stop to expand her collection of hunting gear, and as Harrier and Tiercel laid out the cold meats they’d bought in Fort Halacira, Simera set several snares in the tall grass. In the morning she’d collect them, hoping to have snared a rabbit or two for tomorrow’s supper.

After the meal, they took the remains far from their campsite to dispose of, and then hung the packs with their food carefully from a tree, where nothing with an appetite for a quick and easy meal could get at them. Harrier settled down in his blankets then—or on them, since the night was warm—but Tiercel pulled the last lantern they’d left burning over to him and took his workbook out of his pack. He wished he’d written down more about the High Magick when he’d had the chance. He wished he’d brought the Spellbooks he’d read at the Great Library with him, come to that.

“What are you doing?” Harrier asked, sounding faintly grumpy and entirely disbelieving.

“Thinking,” Tiercel answered shortly.

He knew he could cast a Fire Spell. That meant there must be other spells he could cast, and one of them would
have
to be useful now. The ancient High Mages had built Armethalieh with magic, after all.