The Swans' War 1 - The One Kingdom (21 page)

Tam felt Baore's weight dragging him down.” Baore?" he said close to his friend's ear. There was a hiss of breath, as though Baore tried to answer, but no sound.

Tam kept his legs pumping, sinking low in the water until it lapped over his chin. He laid his head back, and the quick sound of his own ragged breathing sounded in his ears. A shout went up, and the air filled with arrows.” Turn your faces away," Cynddl whispered.” They'll be seen in the moonlight."Tam turned slowly in the water, expecting an arrow to thunder into the back of his skull at any moment. Men were shouting and running across the bridge. Arrows struck wood repeatedly and buried themselves in the Valemen's belongings with a soft sound eerily like steel burying in flesh. What if they realize the boat is empty? Tam thought. He risked a look. The bridge was drawing slowly near. The river narrowed between rising banks, though not so high as at Telanon Bridge. The course was wider here, too, and in the center of the span Tam could see a supporting pillar which the boat would pass to the right. Tam began to move them more to the left, and he felt Cynddl begin to do the same.

The men on the bridge were in a fury now, and the sound of arrows striking the boat filled the air. The boat passed into the shadow of the bridge, thudding dully once into stone. The men rushed to the other side, some few running off along the bank.

There was nothing the companions could do but remain still in the water, let the current carry them, and hope the feeble moonlight did not betray them. They leaned their heads close together, faces hidden from the heavens. Tam even closed his eyes, like a child who did not want to be seen On the bridge men were calling to others on the western shore, and their voices were so close. The shadow of the bridge passed over Tam like the wing of a great bird. For a moment the sounds of the river changed, echoing hollowly. Tam could hear their harsh breathing, then they were in the moonlit river again, floating among the stars. There was no sudden shout of discovery, no arrows loosed toward them. Tam heard Fynnol let out a long-held breath. They floated on, moving their legs and arms only enough to bear up their companion. Baore was breathing shallowly, in pain, but he was conscious now.” Tam?" Fynnol whispered so low, Tam could almost have imagined it.” Go after the boat." He hesitated only a second, then struck off as silently as he could, wondering how he would find their boat on the darkened river. The icy spring water seemed to seep into him, and he began to shiver. Swim, he ordered himself. Swim to bring the warmth back. Tam forced reluctant limbs to obey his commands. Moving forward, searching the dark river for the more substantial shadow of their boat. Without it they were lost. No way to treat Baore's wound, no blankets to warm him, no food, not even the means to hunt. They'd be weaponless and easy prey for the men who pursued them. Tam tried to force these thoughts from his mind; it was enough to be weakened by cold. The stars swirled around him as he parted the waters. They wavered on the surface, swinging wildly, and then shimmered to stillness. / am swimming through the heavens, he thought. What would Eber think of that? He had passed beyond the men crashing along the shore. Alone in his own ribbon of stars. If the river carried him up into the sky now, he would not be surprised. Tam turned about, searching the darkness. If Baore had only painted their boat white instead of such a deep blue . .. Would the currents carry the boat to the bank or into some small eddy? Or might it stay to the strongest current and continue south? Eventually it would go ashore, he decided. That's what his experience with lost boats told him. But which shore and when?

He kept moving his arms and legs, not so worried now about the noise he was making. For a moment he wondered if he should simply lie on his back and let the river take him where it would—carry him along as it carried the boat. Would they not end up in the same place?

Tarn shook his head. He was falling into fancy. He pushed himself to greater speed and began to angle across the current; then, when he neared the shore, he began to cross the other way. The boat was out here somewhere, adrift. He had to find it. Find it before he grew tired. Once he was forced ashore to rest, it would be over. The boat would be gone.

For a moment he rolled onto his back, moving only enough to stay afloat. Overhead the stars spread, sharply defined, across the dark vault of the sky. He felt as though he were staring down at them from a great height. So far to fall. Tam rolled again, and swallowed a mouthful of water. He choked aloud, and nearby something moved, causing him to recoil. But it was only a bird. A small heron had been perched on a drifting log. Tam looked again: a dark shape, starlight faintly illuminating a long, regular curve.

In two strokes he had his hand on the gunwale. He hung there a moment, taking long deep breaths, water running from his hair and eyes, relief washing through him.

And then he realized the boat lay head to current, the broad river flowing by. He reached out and felt her painter running taut over the bow—caught on something on the river bottom. And then it went slack in his hand and the boat slewed slowly about.

It took two tries to climb aboard, as the chill of the river had sapped his strength. Finally Tam floundered aboard, collapsing for a moment to shiver on the floorboards. There were arrows everywhere—embedded in wood, in their baggage, even lying loose in the bottom. If they had been caught aboard...

There was no time to contemplate what might have been. He stripped off his dripping clothes and dug out something dry, staring back down the river, into the darkness.

How would he find the others? He shipped a pair of oars and slowed the progress of the boat, taking a moment to think. With only two to keep Baore afloat, they would need to get out of the river soon. They would go ashore on the eastern bank, for the men from the bridge had gone down the west. Tam struck out for the shore as silently as he could, listening for sounds of their pursuers or for his companions. He thought about Baore's wound—an arrow deep in his shoulder, it had seemed. If no major blood vessels were severed he would likely survive, as long as the wound didn't fester.

The shadow of the shoreline loomed over him, blotting out the stars. Tam felt the hair on his neck bristling. If any of their hunters had come down this shore... He moved his oars even more carefully.

A bird called not far off, and then again. The sorcerer thrush, he realized. Not a night bird at all...” Cynddl... ?" "Here," came the reply.

In a moment he'd found them, drawn up in a shallow. Without a word they helped Baore aboard; and Tam was striking out silently for the river's center, feeling safe for the first time since Cynddl had wakened him.

Morning stole the glitter from the stars and a gray tide flooded the sky. Then, mysteriously, it was blue.

Tam looked at Baore, who lay crumpled in the bottom of the boat, his good hand holding his shoulder. His eyes were closed and he lay utterly still, only his chest rising and falling, though gently, as though even breathing brought him pain.” Baore ... ?"The big man nodded, his eyes remaining closed.” We've traveled far enough," Fynnol said.” We need to get Baore ashore and see to his wound.""We're too close to the bridge yet," Cynddl said.” We have to go on for an hour or two at least."Fynnol turned on the story finder.” We're taking Baore ashore the first place we find.""Fynnol? Cynddl is right," Tarn said softly.” We need to go on. We haven't come half a league or anywhere near it. We'd be foolish to stop."Fynnol stared at Tam a moment, then he pushed Cynddl aside and took up a pair of oars.” Then let's put some distance between ourselves and the bridge." Ignoring his injury, he dug the blades deep into the river, and drove them forward. Tam took up a pair of oars and joined him, straining so that he felt the muscles in his back pull and his shoulders ache.

An hour later Cynddl found a place for them to land. They slid their boat up a small side stream curtained by willows, and moored against a grassy embankment. A fire was kindled in a small clearing and Baore's wound examined. The arrow had entered the mound of muscle below the shoulder, and though there was little blood seeping from the wound, the flesh was inflamed and swollen to a strange hardness.

As gently as he could, Cynddl probed the wound. The arrow in the skin looked so unnatural, the wooden shaft emerging from a small, red mouth.” I don't think it's in the bone but it's deep in the muscle, Baore."The big Valeman nodded. He kept his eyes averted from the wound, as though it were too awful to look at, and sweat dripped from his face, though the morning wasn't hot. Tam and Cynddl examined the arrows bristling from the boat, trying to determine the shape of the head.” I wish Aliel were here," Cynddl said.” We need a proper healer." He touched the head of an arrow.” It won't back out easily, nor was it meant to, but I don't think we can push it through. My knowledge is poor. There are vessels that, if severed, might bleed so badly we'd never stop them." The Fael stared at the arrow, weighing it in his hand, then pressing the point gently against his palm. Cynddl's uncertainty disturbed Tam. Men died of lesser wounds than Baore's. A few years earlier a neighbor hadn't survived a gash accidentally inflicted by a scythe. The wound had corrupted and swelled with poisons. It was a slow death, ghastly and horrifying. Cynddl took a long breath and looked at Tam, returning from whatever place he went to contemplate.” We'll have to cut around the wound enough to draw the arrow back, but carefully, so that we sever no blood vessels. I don't know what else to do." Tam nodded. He knew less than Cynddl about such things, he was sure.” I'll help any way I can." Cynddl produced a small, thin-bladed knife and tested the edge. Baore held out his good hand.” Give me that," he said. He had Fynnol find his whetstone and then, gritting his teeth, sat for half an hour with the stone held between his knees, meticulously honing Cynddl's blade.” Here," Baore said as he finished.” It will cut glass now, so wield it with care." Cynddl set the blade carefully aside and then probed the wound again. A shirt was torn for dressings, and Cynddl produced a poultice of yarrow and arnica that would help bind the skin together. The story finder began by cleaning around the wound, washing it with water from a nearby spring.” We'll have to keep the opening clear so that I'll see any vessels," Cynddl said.” Can I begin, Baore?"The Valeman nodded, turning his head away. Cynddl took up the knife, his knuckles white, and broadened the opening in the skin, a thin red line following the glittering steel. It took a long time to go deep enough to free the head of the arrow, and Baore, despite his strength, cried out more than once at the pain. Finally the arrow was worked free and the wound closed. They bound it as best they could, applying the poultice Cynddl had made.

Baore lay on his side, head buried in his good arm, and moved very little the rest of that day. The fire was smothered— smoke had betrayed them twice already—and the three companions took it in turn to watch the river.

Baore didn't rest easily but muttered and thrashed in his sleep, waking occasionally, bathed in sweat. Eyes wide, he stared at the others in incomprehension, and then realized who they were and sank back down into his muddled blankets. His companions looked at one another in fear, knowing there was little they could do.

In the morning Cynddl removed Baore's dressing and found the wound still open. To Tarn's horror it seemed to glow like a coal and was hot to the touch, oozing a milky yellow fluid. Baore couldn't move his shoulder for the pain, which had spread into the pit of his arm.

"I'm cold, Cynddl," Baore said, though there was a sheen of sweat on his face.

"We'll give you our blankets and kindle a fire." Cynddl renewed the poultice, but Tarn thought the story finder's expression more grim than usual, which was saying a great deal. When Baore was resting beneath their blankets Cynddl drew the others aside.

"I don't like the turn that Baore's wound is taking. Keep him warm and make him drink water. He must pass the poisons through. I'm going to search nearby. There are other plants that might help bring down his fever and bind the wound." He put his hand on Fynnol's shoulder, for the Valeman was as white as Baore.” Try not to look so, Fynnol. It's better for Baore if he sees we believe he'll heal—and he will." Cynddl went off into the forest and Tarn and Fynnol sat quietly watching Baore, afraid to speak and disturb him. Baore complained of the cold for a time, then threw the blankets aside, saying that he was burning up. All the while sweat ran from him. The pain, Tarn thought, was considerable, for the big Valeman would curl up like a child and hide his face, occasionally unable to suppress a moan. Fynnol kept bearing him water to drink, but Baore had little interest in it and took only a sip. Now and then he fell into sleep for a few moments and then he muttered and raved and thrashed about. Tarn tried to comfort Fynnol, who was ill with worry for Baore. He wouldn't eat, and he sat still as stone watching his cousin.” He didn't want to come," he said to Tarn in the afternoon, "but I wouldn't listen. I've never listened. What Baore might want has never meant much to me. No, he must always do what I wish, and now look what I've brought him to." "Baore's not a child. He could have said no, but he didn't." "You don't know the half of it. I know what to say to make poor Baore do as I wish. I know how to shame him and praise him until he finally agrees. I put that arrow in his shoulder, Tam, as surely as if I'd shot it myself." Cynddl returned, finally, bearing plants wrapped in bark.” Bloodwood," he said, "to bind the wound. And bark from the waterwillow to bring down his fever." Fire was rekindled so that a tea might be made of the waterwillow bark, and Cynddl soaked the leaves of the blood-wood in the boiling water and then, while still hot, bound them over Baore's wound. He was forced to drink the tea, and then covered again in all their blankets. Night came with no sign of improvement, and the others divided up the watches, not to guard against attackers but to watch over Baore and to make more of the waterwillow tea for him to drink. They kept the fire burning, no longer caring who might see it. One death seemed so near that they would risk four without question.