| |
Reckless Pace
––––––––
JIRA (MARCH) 20, 1538-Jira (March) 21, 1538
Nineteen-twenty days into Prince Terosh’s Kireshana journey
Kireshana Path, Western Edge of the Calsol Forest
You can’t bring those women back.
Terosh tried to shake off the images, but they wouldn’t leave him alone. Ahead, he saw open land beyond the endless cal trees. A line of silver hovs waited for them.
“Why are those here?” Terosh demanded.
“They offer a swift way across the Riden Flats, Highness,” Lieutenant Ectosh Laocer replied.
“I can’t take those!” Terosh protested. “Everyone else rides horses. I will, too.”
“Your royal brother took this route, High—”
“Lose the honorifics. It’s getting on my nerves.” A lifetime had been quite enough.
Tate’s choice was his own. I should be like everyone else.
Terosh sighed.
Yes, like everyone else with Royal Guards watching over him. I’ll never prove myself if I don’t escape.
“Yes, sir.” Laocer’s voice contained the crisp snap of a salute. “His Majesty the king thought it best if you started your trip through the Riden Mountains before the next acid storms.”
“Before the next—” Terosh cut himself off to avoid an unsightly scene, like him throttling Laocer.
That’s two months away! I’d need to crawl to take that long!
“We’re going to Calsola and taking horses.” Terosh infused his voice with command. “I like riding, and I want to see some of the land.” Though not palace-bound, Terosh had visited little of Reshner. The Kireshana provided the first real chance—perhaps his only one—to truly walk among the people.
After sending the hovs away, the group covered the kilometers to Calsola in silence. Terosh settled the account to rent horses and suppressed a laugh at the owner’s expression at seeing close to a thousand kefs counted out. Since greed rolled off the man in waves, Terosh drew him aside and bought some tamitin powder at a hefty price while his men saddled the horses.
Soon, Terosh and his six escorts started across the Riden Flats. Having traveled the path many times, the horses knew how to avoid graveground. Terosh thought little about how they knew but trusted the horses’ instincts for avoiding places where the ground would collapse. The pits formed could be anywhere from a few centimeters to several meters across.
The rushing wind thrilled Terosh almost as much as the sight of endless golden fields. He wanted to enjoy the sweet scent of clean air for as long as possible, and he couldn’t bring himself to enact his plan just yet. So, he pressed the group on well into the night.
When they finally stopped, Terosh decided to keep the guards for another night. The soldiers fed and watered the horses while Terosh and Laocer started a fire and cooked a hot meal. As stacks of fluffy flatcakes appeared, Terosh opened a small jar of rielberry jam to share.
The Guards cheered at the sight of the treat and devoured the pleasant meal.
The evening went well until the soldiers arranged their bedrolls around Terosh, killing his sense of freedom. The day had been long, but he was too sore to sleep right away.
Dillain, the youngest guard, took first watch and, with a little prompting, sang a sad song in his rich tenor voice.
“Where’d you learn to sing?” Terosh asked.
“Chamberlain’s Boys Choir,” Dillain mumbled.
Two moons, Gemuln and Corid, shone down brightly enough to highlight Dillain’s red cheeks. The third moon, Marishaz, denied the night her presence.
“Do you ever miss those days?” Terosh asked, before the other soldiers could tease Dillain.
“Nah.” Dillain’s expression contradicted his dismissive tone.
Terosh dropped the point, figuring he should let sleep catch him. He shifted on his bedroll and moaned.
“It’ll be worse in the morning,” Laocer promised.
Terosh answered with a grunt, rolled over, and bit back a curse as muscles he hardly knew existed announced their presence with pain.
Next morning, he awoke grumpier than a cawalla with a knotted tail. Too sore to feel guilty, Terosh barked orders at the men. He’d ridden horses through the palace gardens countless times, often racing Tate, but the horses bred for crossing the Riden Flats were hardly the well-mannered beasts from the royal stables. Halfway through mounting, the horse reared as a snake shot toward its front right leg. Terosh’s shout disappeared beneath the clamor of his men trying to kill the creature. Finally, Laocer fired his serlak pistol twice into the snake’s head.
Terosh leapt to his feet, more angry than hurt. His right ankle ached. Speaking softly to the skittish horse, he silently cursed the snake. Closer examination showed that the creature was a maritech viper, one of Reshner’s deadliest snakes.
“Can we keep it?” Dillain asked.
“Why in Riden’s name would we do that?” Terosh demanded.
“Good meat.”
Terosh nodded curtly.
“You want it. You carry it.”
Dillain sliced the snake’s head off with a kerlinblade to seal the blood inside and draped the body across his shoulders.
Though they didn’t press the horses as hard as the previous day, the Riden Flats flew past anyway. Terosh admired the beautiful seas of grain stretching in every direction. Wheat, krinton, corn, sanda, and barley grew side-by-side. Where one field ended, the next began. Occasionally, a huge field of flowers shattered the monotony of beige and brown. Deeply purple iras dominated, but red porlas, green neralas, orange and yellow copalas, and white sholcas held their own. Terosh had seen each flower and many more in the palace gardens but never in such wild openness. The wind shifted carrying the sweet, tangy scent of iras and the heady scent of porlas over his senses.
I could get used to this.
Terosh waved to a farmer who shouted for them to stop and rest.
If we stop for every farmer, we’ll never get through.
“Perhaps we should stop a moment,” Laocer suggested.
“We’ve lost ground already,” Terosh said, pressing his horse forward at a quicker pace.
A nameless urgency drove him on.
By the time they halted for the evening, Terosh didn’t care what Dillain cooked and was pleasantly surprised by the tender snake meat roasted over an open fire. Cold spring water and sliced appolas cooked in water seasoned with mintas sprigs completed the simple meal.
***
JIRA (MARCH) 20, 1538-Jira (March) 21, 1538
Same Days and Beyond
Kireshana Path, Western Edge of the Calsol Forest
Reia’s heart nearly stopped when she saw the silver hovs speed away. Some Rangers used hovs, but she never expected to be close enough to feel their vibrations. Spotting the prince just ahead, she breathed normally again.
No one had considered the possibility of Prince Terosh taking hovs to the Riden Mountains. Most reports predicted he would take the harder road wherever possible. Reia silently thanked the scouts for being right thus far.
They’ll probably take horses. What will I do?
Having no answer, Reia simply followed the prince’s group. Though grateful nothing unusual had happened in the last week, she knew something could go wrong any time. She also felt someone watching her.
Coridian Assassin? Lucas?
It seemed like something he would do, and public announcements notwithstanding, Reia trusted Master Niklos’s warning that Coridian Assassins would train during the Kireshana. She quietly repeated her master’s advice for comfort.
“‘Prove yourself competent, and they’ll leave you alone.’”
Forced to wait while the prince dealt with the horse master, Reia pondered her new predicament. She lacked sufficient funds to rent a horse. She could always rent one now and pay the debt in the Salt Mines later, but that would still force her to abandon her charge for far too long. Even Master Niklos’s calming techniques failed to subdue her restless energy. The collection of herbs in her caydronan sack would cover the debt in terms of worth, but they were worse than useless in the hands of untrained people. Too much cormea would paralyze a person instead of deadening pain. Too little astera would make Kemloth Fever worse.
Five minutes after the prince left, Reia stepped into the horse master’s office. The outside hadn’t been very impressive, and the inside looked like windstorm wreckage. Saddles, blankets, bridles, and bits hung haphazardly on hooks jutting from weather-beaten walls and lay about on every flat surface. A half-eaten appola rotted on a rickety wooden desk, adding a sickeningly sweet scent to the air.
Behind the desk, a fat man counted an impressive pile of kefs.
“Can I help you?” The horse master’s voice quivered with excitement. He rose, swept the kefs out of sight into a metal box, and trundled out from behind the desk.
Reia took the man in as he approached.
Greedy, unscrupulous, dangerous.
“I hope so. How much would it cost to rent a horse?” Reia forced her lips into a tentative smile. Not knowing what to do with her hands, she gestured at the nearest bridle with her left hand and kept her right near her banistick.
“Too much. You don’t look like you have a single kef to your name.”
Reia assumed the man knew enough to associate her attire with the Rangers. The brown trousers and beige shirt fit her well, and her travel cloak gracefully draped her shoulders.
The man’s eyes wandered her body.
My sister would probably punch you right about now.
Reia’s smile brightened, and she was unaware how appealing the expression made her.
The man grinned and reached for her arm.
“But you look like a resourceful woman. We can discuss other means of payment if you wish.”
Reacting instinctively, Reia wrenched her arm away, whirled, and fled.
Kiata would fight him.
“Kiata’s not here!” Reia loved her older sister dearly but hated the constant comparisons. Despite growing up together, they had always walked their own paths. Kiata was a fighter, and Reia was a thinker. Some said that the distinctions proved they had different parents, but Reia had never much cared that they didn’t share blood. They were sisters bound by fate and love.
At some point, you’re going to have to be you, not Kiata.
Irritation both at herself and the horse master gave Reia a burst of energy that drove her over many kilometers. The caydronan sack bounced along at her side, falling into a gentle rhythm with her footfalls.
If you can climb the Riden Mountains with a few caydronan sacks, you can handle a little running.
She winced. The Riden Flats would be a lot of running. Trouble would surely find the prince before she found him. On horseback, he could cross the plains in about a week. Even anotech enhancement and excellent conditioning couldn’t match that pace. She didn’t know how anotechs worked, but she was grateful that they allowed her to keep a brutal pace for hours. Finally, Reia stopped by a small stream and set up a temporary camp. She ate some korver jerky and washed it down with cool water. Foregoing a fire, she relied on her travel cloak to preserve her body heat and settled down to sleep. Despite the illusion of peace, Reia kept her banistick and shootav close. Soon, the natural night symphony lulled her to sleep.
Reia spent the night captive to her dream. It wasn’t the dream where she lay paralyzed in a cold, dark place or the one where she fought off korvers and bears. Nor was it the one where her sister was tied to a rough wooden pole and beaten. In this dream, Reia was a baby carried in her mother’s arms.
The infant Reia screamed and thrashed, trying to warn her mother not to walk down that long hallway or open the door to join her father. Her mother paused to soothe her, whispering comforting words she couldn’t understand. Everything felt real. Mother’s cool hand and soft voice fought the fear as she continued down the hallway, passing the same four candlesticks they always passed. Finally, they reached the terrible room.
Father spoke but Reia heard only the cadence of his words.
Something cold touched her head, pressing painfully.
Mother screamed.
Something bright and hot flashed by Reia’s face, burning her right cheek and chin.
Suddenly, she was falling.
Just as she hit the floor, she woke up.
Chilled, sweating, and grateful to be awake, Reia quickly packed her things and followed the prince’s trail. The horses left regular markers, making her job easier.
As she ran, Reia kept sane by reviewing plants. She mentally combined them to make teas and healing pastes, which would cure anything from fever to poison to cuts and deeper wounds. She could have wrestled with the dream, but she had pondered it from every conceivable angle and didn’t wish to dwell on it further. Nights controlled by the dreams were quite enough.
The second full day went much the same as the first, but this time, Reia concentrated on Master Ekris’s stories.
To regulate her breathing, she sang “The Ballad of Ferrakin Maz,” a song that took nearly three hours to complete.
Mid-afternoon, Reia came across a herd of danlas and stopped to have lunch with the three keepers. The boys chattered incessantly and insisted Reia judge their mock duels. After an hour, Reia thanked them for sharing their meal and took her leave. She’d needed the rest, but she had a prince on horseback to catch.
Thoughts of three young danla keepers—Raymi, Wehn, and Moorle—kept her company as she ran long after the moons rose. Reia loved running at night. One of the rare, fond memories of Master Kolknir’s training was the introduction to the world that came alive once the sun set. Korvers and coyotes might move lazily about in the daytime, but they hunted at night, sending up crisp, raw, and savagely beautiful howls. Even the harsh kill sounds blended with the music of hundreds of thousands of insects.
By the third day, the pace wore Reia down and the trail grew colder, but she forged onward. At this rate, she’d reach the Riden Mountains in about three weeks. Though the prince would have a large head start, Reia could catch him during the mountain crossing. She knew countless shortcuts and could track almost as well as Master Corida or Master Celdin. However, the time estimate was based upon the assumption that she could maintain the fast pace, but as the hours wore on, her pace slackened. As despair set in, she spotted a farmer’s purple fire.
Gemon Dravir had searched four different emergency stations only to find them poorly stocked. Reia stopped to help, wondering why the emergency stations had been left in such disrepair. She spent a day nursing Gemon, his wife, and their three children through a bout with cornada and earned the privilege of borrowing a horse named Donol. Cornada’s cure was simple to make. Reia had needed fresh ira petals, mesta shoots, ristal leaves, and a few other herbs, but she’d always enjoyed gathering herbs.
As she rode Donol across much of the Riden Flats, Reia thought about the Dravir family. Despite the isolation, they seemed happy. Their honest hard work appealed to her. Even as she scanned for dangers, she imagined what life would be like had she not been raised by the Rangers.
What if my parents survived the assassination? Would Kiata and I be so close? Would I be who I am?
Of the questions, Reia could only answer the last one. Every hardship that came with Ranger life had molded her. The Order had taught her that strong people had to do good. Some Rangers spent days debating definitions of good, but Reia believed good simply meant aiding others first.
As a healer apprentice, she trained to handle a banistick almost as intensely as Kiata and Todd. She’d beaten off more than a few korvers in defense of tretling herds, but she had never raised her weapon against a person outside of training sessions. Part of her didn’t know if she could, but she knew the matter would soon be decided one way or another.
By the end of the first day’s ride, Reia wasn’t thrilled about having Donol, but she could hardly blame the chestnut horse.
“You’re a good boy, but I don’t think my teeth or backside will ever be the same thanks to you,” Reia commented as she watered Donol at a spring.
Despite screaming leg muscles, Reia forced herself to get on Donol the next morning. A quick meal of dried ira petals and spring water cheered her as she prepared to continue her pursuit.
