Wildling (23 page)

Chapter Thirty Four.

“Mount up!”

Endolm gave the order and everyone did as he said, climbing on to the three wagons. Endolm was leading the caravan because out of all of them he was the only one who had ever done any travelling. Though most of the travelling he did was in bringing wagon loads of produce to market. Still, at least he knew how to drive a wagon and they needed someone who did.
This wasn't an easy thing to do. To care for the horses, keep the wagons in good shape, plan the journey. They were lucky to have him. Endolm was also the one who had provided the three horses and one of the wagons. The other two wagons they had bought the previous day with the coin they could scrape together.

They weren't comfortable wagons. They weren't anything like the brightly coloured covered wagons the wayfarers drove. They were farm wagons, mostly used for carrying wares to the markets. The seats were hard wooden boards, the wheels squeaked and the ride would be rough. Dorn was sure that everyone would be complaining of aching body parts by the time night fell. As for the horses they were mostly used to pulling ploughs through fields. It would be a long slow trip. But still it was better than walking. Especially when they had young children with them and all the possessions they could carry.

Everyone looked nervous he thought. Whether because of the journey ahead or by what awaited them at the other end, he didn’t know. But they all knew enough to realise that they could not stay in River Vale. Every wildling did. The Dicans were asserting control. It had been happening for years, but slowly. Now as their temples burned it seemed they were in a rush. And there were many who knew of Endolm's gift and the gifts of his family. He had not been secretive about it, and had used his skills with stone to shape it so that he could repair many buildings. There had been no need to hide.

“
Head count.”

The heads of each wagon immediately checked that their wagons had everyone on board that they were supposed to have and that no one had been forgotten. But no one had been. Not on Dorn's wagon anyway. There were only the four of them. Him, his little brother and his parents. It wasn't a difficult count. It was even easier for his sister just in front of them as Terra and Thymis had a wagon to themselves. And there were only five in Endolm's wagon at the front. But still Endolm had insisted that they go through this procedure every time they set off and he was their wagon master.

“Four.” Dorn's father gave the count.

“
Two.” Thymis echoed him a heartbeat later.

“
And five. Let’s roll.” Endolm gave the reins on his wagon a flick and instantly they set off. Thymis and Terra followed them and then his father did the same. And with no more than that they were under way. Slowly. The wagons were heavy and the horses were plough horses, not thoroughbreds.

It was an important moment for everyone except Dorn. As he sat in the back of the wagon as far away from their horse as possible, the sight of the cobbled road moving under him meant little to him. He had travelled further recently and River Vale was not his home. But for the others it was.

He could see Terra up ahead, looking back at the little town they were leaving, her face wistful. And in front of her Kinessi, Thymis mother looked like she had a few tears in her eyes. She had been born here like the rest of her family. River Vale was the only home she knew. And this was particularly unjust for her. She was a healer. Her only crime was helping sick people. But the Dicans would burn her just the same. And they would burn her children, most of whom were too young yet to have even shown their gifts. As for the children, they looked mostly confused. Unsure why they were leaving or when they would be coming back. Unsure why they had to go.

Adain at least looked happy as he played with his toys in the wagon. Though River Vale for him too was the only home he had ever known, he was too young to understand. For him this was all some great adventure.

For Dorn it was no adventure at all. Just another leg in the endless journey that had seemed to be his life of late. And he was prepared. With his longbow ready, his new leathers patched again – it seemed that he could destroy clothes with barely a thought – and his eyes set firmly ahead, he was ready.

It wasn't the journey that worried him. It was their destination. His destination. Because unlike the others, when they got there he would have a decision to make. One that pained him. He would either have to apologise to the Lady Sylfene and ask for clemency when they reached the temple.  That way – and after suitable penance – he would be allowed into the temple with his family. Or he could return to Little Rock and abandon his family. Naturally he hated both options.

His mother had instructed him to apologise. She would hear nothing else on the matter and told him off if he even looked like he wanted to object. His father had laughed when he'd heard of his fit of pique and how he had shunned Lady Sylfene. Why Dorn wondered, did everyone seem to find that amusing? Then his father had told him he had too much pride and that he needed to swallow it and ask for clemency. Terra had just called him a fool with a head full of bone, and threatened to burn out his eyes if he didn't ask for forgiveness. The only one of his family who didn't have some advice for him was Adain. But then he was only five. In a few years he would surely come to the same view as the rest of his family.

To add to his woes, now that he was back with his mother she was invading his dreams. Watching him as he had to sit through his nightly history lessons. And if he was the least bit disrespectful to his teacher she would make him apologise. And then she'd apologise for him as well. Naturally it was always his fault. He'd never known it was possible to be humiliated in a dream.

Still, they were on their way and in less than a month he hoped, all of them would be safely beyond the abilities of the Dicans to ever touch them.

And then his hopes came crashing down.

“Hold!”

Dorn looked away from the front wagons to see a pair of black robed priests and a small patrol of soldiers running for them from the town behind them, and he knew it was bad. Priests didn't run. And they'd barely made three hundred yards. Nervously he gripped his longbow but didn't draw it. Maybe they could talk their way out of this. Maybe.

Endolm pulled the lead wagon to a halt and the others stopped behind him as they waited for the priests to reach them. They didn't have to wait long as the priests hurried. But strangely they weren't coming for Dorn or his family as he expected. They were rushing for Endolm and he watched in astonishment as they ran straight past them, their black robes flapping with every stride. The others did too. But then he remembered, the Edans were known in these parts as being wildlings. The Clearwaters weren't.

“
Where do you think you're going deviant?”

The first priest hurled it out between gasps for breath, and Dorn knew it was a threat not a question. He also knew that the dozen soldiers giving chase were the force behind it. But these were Aladoran guards, not battle hardened soldiers. They were lightly armed, most of them with spears instead of swords, while instead of solid steel breastplates they had only chain and leather. They were also on foot, which was why the priests were ahead of them. Running in armour was slow.

“North.” Endolm seemed calm, which was good. But behind him his family were looking nervous. And in the middle wagon Terra and Thymis were looking absolutely terrified. They looked even more worried when the guards rushed past them to circle Endolm's wagon.

“
To join the other deviants? Not likely.”

The priest seemed angry, but that was normal enough for them. The hatred that lived within them owned their souls. And it filled them with fury at the mere sight of a wildling. “You're coming with us.”

“So you can burn me? I don't think so.”

Why was Endolm so calm Dorn wondered? His wagon was completely surrounded by armed men. All of whom had surely been told to kill him and his family if they gave them the slightest trouble. Dorn pulled his longbow and rested it on his lap with an arrow drawn. If it came to a battle he was going to win.

“Get out of the wagon!” The priest snapped at him, apparently unhappy that Endolm was so calm. Perhaps it made him nervous. The guards were nervous too. Dorn could see the tension in their bodies as they held their spears, just waiting to kill someone with them.

“
Get out of my way.” Why was Endolm so calm?

“
Kill him!” The priest screamed his order at the guards and instantly they advanced on Endolm intending to do as they were told. And immediately Dorn stood up and released his first arrow straight into the back of the nearest guard. The man screamed and fell even while Dorn drew his next arrow.

After that it was confusion. The guards rushing for Endolm suddenly turned to face Dorn realising they were in danger from behind, while Dorn released a second arrow straight into the belly of another man and he doubled over.

Suddenly the priests screamed but not in hatred and fury. They screamed in terror. Why Dorn didn't know. But he did know that he had to kill these men fast. Before they killed him. He put another arrow into a belly and watched the man pitch forward and scream while the others kept running for him. But even as he drew his next arrow Dorn noticed that as fast as the guards were running for him they didn't seem to be making much progress. He wasn't sure why. And he wasn't sure why the priests were screaming in terror either. Surely if they were that terrified they should be running away?

Still another arrow and another guard down and he couldn't help but feel that they were winning through. There were only eight men left and when he shifted they would run. These were town guards not soldiers.

Then as he drew his next arrow he noticed something strange. The soldiers were all getting shorter. It made no sense. Until he realised that they were sinking. Into the ground. That was why they were running so slowly. They were wading through soil. Or trying to. And the strangely liquid soil was getting deeper. Dorn didn't release his next arrow. He suddenly understood that he didn't need to. They were in no danger. But it did amaze him that a stonewright, someone with the gift of shaping the earth and the stone so that he could build with it, could be so useful in battle. Endolm was an artisan, not a warrior. Yet he'd destroyed an entire patrol with his gift.

Soon the soldiers were screaming like the priests as they guessed their fate. But there was nothing they could do by then. They were buried up to their wastes in dirt and slowly sinking further. All thought of attacking them had been forgotten. Several had grabbed on to the wagon wheels and were desperately trying to hoist themselves up out of the ground. But they were in armour and weighed down by mud. It took a lot of strength and they couldn't do it with their hands full. They threw their spears aside as they desperately tried to save themselves.

Meanwhile the priests were buried up to their shoulders and screaming in terror as they understood that they were about to drown. They were also begging for mercy. Endolm though didn't seem to be in a merciful mood. Not as he suddenly stood up in the lead wagon and stared down at priests. His face was filled with bitterness.

“
Like the mercy you showed old Perres, priest?” Dorn didn't know who Perres was, but he guessed that he hadn't survived.

“
You burnt him alive when he did nothing except heal the sick. And you truly think you should live after that?”

But even if they did it didn't matter. Still screaming the two priests suddenly disappeared into the ground and Dorn knew they would not reappear. But at least their screams had ended.

As for the guards, by then they were buried up to their armpits in soil and screaming in terror. Those that still could. Some were face down in the mud. The ones he'd stuck arrows in at a guess.

“
And you!” Endolm turned his wrath on the soldiers. “You're from this town. You knew the people you helped to murder. They were your friends!” Endolm charged them with their crimes, angry and hurt at the same time.

“
Please! … Mercy!” As their chins sank into the dirt their pleas were all they had left, and they screamed them with everything they had. And strangely it seemed to work. Or at least they stopped sinking. But they weren't getting out either. Not when the soil all around them suddenly became solid again.

“
Mercy? You don't deserve it.” Endolm sounded bitter. “You're traitors to your own people. Murderers of the good people of River Vale.” And no one Dorn noticed, was disagreeing with him. Not the others in the wagons. Not even the guards buried up to their armpits in dirt.

“
But you can live for now. Perhaps hope that some of the other townsfolk will dig you out in time. You know, those same townsfolk who now have no healer because of you. Who will sicken and die of the demon diseases when they strike because of you.”

“
Who knows, maybe they'll dig you out if you beg and plead. Or maybe they'll leave you to rot in the ground.”

And as Dorn looked around he could suddenly see that there were others nearby. Villagers who had come out to harvest the cane. They were standing on both sides of the road, watching. Endolm was speaking to them as much as to the buried guards.