Watt-Evans, Lawrence - Annals of the Chosen 01 (76 page)

"We
can't
feed
you,"
someone
said.
"He'd
kill
us."

"Ah,"
the
Leader
said
again.
He
sighed.
"Very
well,
then—we
will
be
on
our
way,
and
rest
assured,
we
will
do our
best
to
remove
this
nightmare
from
Barokan
and
restore peace
and
order.
Bow,
steer
us
around
the
village,
please."

"But,
Boss,
you
could
persuade
them
..."

"I
could,
but
I
won't."

"But
..."

"Do
it."

The
Archer
shrugged.
"You're
the
Leader,"
he
said.
He turned
the
wagon
aside.

A
halfhearted
cheer
went
up.
"Hail
the
Chosen!"

"Save
us
from
the
Dark
Lord!"

"Go
away!"

"Go
quickly!"

"May
the
ler
protect
you!"

They
bypassed
Quince
Market,
and
the
next
town,
and the
next,
sleeping
in
the
wagon
by
the
roadside—a
sleep
troubled
by
unpleasant
dreams.
Breaker
could
remember no
details
of
what
he
had
dreamed
when
he
woke,
but
he
often
awoke
sweating,
his
hands
clenched
so
tight
they ached,
and
he
always
knew
that
whatever
he
had
dreamed
had
been
bad.
When
they
met
a
guide
upon
the
road,
some
four
days
past
Quince
Market,
Breaker
spent
all
his
remaining
funds
buying
ara
feathers
from
him,
in
hopes
the magic-blocking
feathers
would
shield
him
from
the
nightmares.

They
helped,
but
not
as
much
as
Breaker
had
hoped.

Obtaining
water
for
drinking
and
bathing
along
the
way was
no
problem,
even
without
entering
any
inns
or villages—the
rain-swollen
streams
and
overflowing
wells and
cisterns
everywhere
provided
them
with
all
the
water they
could
want.
Food
was
not
so
plentiful,
however;
their
supplies
ran
out
on
the
fifth
day.
They
resorted
to
looting farms
along
the
way,
stealing
grain
and
produce
from
outlying
barns,
and
the
Archer
took
to
carrying
his
bow
strung
and
ready,
to
bring
down
game
for
the
cookpot.
Rabbits,
birds,
squirrels,
and
a
deer
provided
variety
in
their
diet;
they
did
not
take
down
any
livestock,
preferring
to
keep
their thievery
to
a
minimum.

The
Scholar
turned
out
to
be
a
reasonably
competent butcher.
"I
had
it
all
explained
to
me
once,"
he
said.
"I couldn't
forget
it
if
I
tried.
But
I've
had
very
little
practical experience
until
now."

The
rain
continued,
but
with
ever
less
enthusiasm.
Lightning
seemed
to
be
reserved
for
threatening
any
town
they
approached,
and
there
were
no
more
roadblocks.
Animals
attacked
them
occasionally,
but
now
that
the
Seer
and
the
Speaker
knew
to
watch
for
those,-
they
were
easily
dealt
with—either
the
Speaker
would
use
the
beast's
true
name
to
release
it
from
the
spell,
or
the
Archer
or
the
Swordsman would
dispose
of
it
more
permanently,
often
providing
dinner
in
the
process.
The
Wizard
Lord
could
not
mass
enough
animals
in
a
single
assault
to
overwhelm
them
all.

And
these
attacks,
too,
trailed
off
after
a
time.
Even
the nightmares,
already
weakened
by
the
ara
feathers,
faded away
to
nothing.

"I
think
he's
wearing
himself
out,"
the
Seer
said,
when
Breaker
commented
on
the
ineffectuality
of
the
Wizard
Lord's
continuing
efforts.
"He feels
tired,
somehow.
I
could sense
it
in
my
meditation."

"I
thought
you
just
knew
where
he
was,
and
whether
he's killed
anyone,"
Breaker
said.

"That's
all
I
can
be
sure
of,"
the
Seer
agreed,
"but
sometimes
I
get
these
feelings
about
him,
a
little
extra."