Thirty-One
Hayes was the first to appear, rising before the sun. He made his way down the bank, stopping to survey the river before bending to drink. In the muted light, the pewter morning, he appeared small, childlike, as he crouched down by the running water, the sky above him rose and gray. Dusk appeared, and Erasmus froze in place knowing the wolfhound might sense him where the others did not.
But the dog bent down beside the young man and lapped up the water with a long tongue, raising his head to survey the world warily, as wild animals did when they came to drink.
In turn, each of his companions came down to the river. As they departed, Erasmus said a silent good-bye to each; Deacon Rose next, then the determined Kehler, and Clarendon last. Oddly, this was the hardest parting. Randall Spencer Emanual Clarendon; the small man with enormous heart. There was something about his gentleness and fits of passion, his unwavering loyalty, that Erasmus found difficult to leave. Kehler and Hayes were young and bright, they would do well; it was hardly in question. Rose, well, he was another matter. Fanatics, true fanatics, were never wrong, and this sustained them through being both persecuted and persecutor. Rose would go to his death believing that Anna’s murder was Farrelle’s will—and Erasmus’ death in quest of this, merely unfortunate.
Clarendon made his way back up the bank as the edge of the sun seared the horizon. Dusk gamboled beside him, but when his master did not respond, the dog became quiet, even pensive, if a dog could be pensive.
Two hours later Erasmus watched them ride off, leading several riderless horses. Despite being weak with hunger, and suffering the blackest of headaches, Erasmus remained hidden for some time.
What would he do if Anna did not appear? If she were dead or had abandoned him?
The sight of his companions riding away had left him feeling . . . as he had felt when delivered to the house of Eldrich, those many years ago. But now he felt ghostly as well. While his companions were camped a stone’s throw away, he could still give this up—step out onto the riverbank and shout. And there would be food and warm clothing—a horse to ride. Friends.
Instead he was alone in the hills without food or the tools of survival: an ax; a knife; a bow.
Several hours passed, giving Erasmus ample time to contemplate starvation. His reserves had been so depleted by the time in the cavern that he began to wonder seriously if he could even walk out of the hills now. Certainly a grown man could not starve to death in the Caledon Hills? No, he decided, even if he wasn’t born in the hills, he knew enough about the natural world to survive. There would be crayfish in the river, and fish, if he could fashion a spear. A dozen plants could be eaten. Birds’ eggs would be a last resort. He would survive.
Sure that his companions were gone, Erasmus emerged onto the gravel bar, looking up and down the river. Here it flowed so tranquilly that he could hardly believe a torrent lay just upstream. Downstream the waters were shaded by overhanging trees, the shadows broken in places, sunlight turning the water iridescent green—the color of a hummingbird’s throat.
As he looked, something took shape in the shadow, then stepped out into sunlight. Anna, her long legs golden in the sunlight. Erasmus moved toward her, and as he did, realized she wore only a long shirt. They met at the edge of the water, both silent and grave.
Then she smiled. “You stayed,” she said.
Erasmus nodded.
Her smile broadened. “I am drying my wretched clothes. Come, swim with me, and I will show you where I’ve hidden the food.”
She began stripping off his clothes, laughing, her smile bright and mischievous. And then, suddenly, she went bounding into the water shouting, “We’re dead, we’re dead! They all think we’re dead.” Peeling off her shirt and tossing it onto the shore, she pitched herself into the water and then emerged, throwing great arcs of water with her arms. She laughed with such abandon that she lost her balance and fell into the water, emerging in a fit of laughter and coughing.
Erasmus plunged in, feeling the shock of the cold after the warmth of the sun. He surfaced before her and she reached out and took his face between her hands.
“You realize we’re dead?” she said, trying to sound serious though neither her face nor voice would comply. “Eldrich thinks we’re dead. . . . Or soon will. You understand what that means?”
Erasmus said nothing, not quite caught up in the moment.
“We are free of him, Erasmus. You are free of him. Free of him! We may go where we please. Do what we wish. Become whom we will. Do you see?” She began to chant. “Freefreefreefree.” And then she jumped up and ducked him, pushing down on his shoulders until he went under, and then she relented, slipping down, her body softly pressed to his. Their lips met as Erasmus surfaced, a long, luxurious kiss.
He could feel each of her ribs. That was his first thought as they kissed. She had come so close to starving. They both had. Flames, he was all bones himself.
When they parted, she released him, taking his hand. “Come,” she said, “there is food, and then I think we can find a bed of moss. We’ll have to do without starlight. I can’t wait that long.”
They lay close, by the light of a small fire, and gazed at a map they had spread on the ground. Anna lay half over Erasmus, propped up on an elbow, and the soft warmth of her was like a second fire, glowing against his skin. She aimed a long finger lazily at the map. “We cannot go into this village. That would be an error. No, we must go past, overland. It will be all meadows and fields and small woods. Not so hard as traveling in the hills.”
“But we need to buy horses, food. Find rooms to sleep.”
She nuzzled his ear. “Clearly you have not been hiding from Eldrich all your life. You can afford no mistakes. You must remember that no one can lie to him, or keep their secrets. Leave a single witness to your passing and Eldrich will hear of it.” She kissed him softly. “We will travel by night, stay clear of houses and their occupants. If we must, we’ll take a bit of food, and leave a coin or two—for I know you’re too noble to rob the less fortunate.” He could hear the grin in her tone, and she kissed his neck, wrestled the blanket around to her liking and put her finger to the map. “Here. What town is this?”
“Cobblers’ Hill. Or ‘Cobblers’ Hell’ as it is known locally.”
“Why is that? Should we stay clear of it?”
“No, it is just a peculiarity of the local pronunciation, where ‘hill’ is ‘hell,’ and a ‘mill’ a ‘mell.’”
“No one knows you there, I hope?”
“No. I’ve just heard the name. It is a prosperous town, by all accounts. Large enough so you can’t know everyone’s name or business. We’ll buy horses there, I take it?”
“And a small carriage, if we can find one. Nothing that would stand out, but a lady traveling by horseback will likely be noticed.”
“A dog cart,” Erasmus ventured.
“Exactly. You know, when I was child, I thought such a cart would be drawn by dogs! Not carry them.”
Erasmus laughed.
“I imagined all kinds of such carts. A cat cart. A goat cart . . .”
“Now there is such a thing as a goat cart.”
“There is not!”
“Oh, but there is. We might even see one as we go. Usually used to draw milk to town, for some odd reason.”
“You liar!”
Anna tried to tickle him, to no avail for he had not been susceptible even as a boy. After a moment she gave up. “I didn’t realize you were a man of so little sensitivity.”
Erasmus didn’t respond, but remained still, staring at the map. “Where are we going?”
Anna sensed his mood, and grew more serious herself. This was characteristic of her, Erasmus knew—this sensitivity to others. Perhaps it was even a manifestation of her talent. It told her when to apply her abundant charm, to which Erasmus was susceptible.
She lay her head on his shoulder. “We must go to ground for a while, Erasmus. Let Eldrich become confident that we are dead. There is a place—Eldrich will not know of it—it is isolated, the house not easily found. We could live there thirty years and no one would bother us.”
“And does this place have a name?”
She looked at him for a moment, as though wondering if she could trust him with such information—if she trusted him at all. “Do you know Beacon Head? There is a small island in its lee: Midsummer Isle. Very few people live there. Fisher folk, a few farmers. There was a town, but it was long ago abandoned. It is mainly known for Halden once having stayed there a year. It is said he wrote About Ashleen during that time. A few eccentrics have taken to living there—people who, for various reasons, no longer desire the society of men. I have a house there. High on a cliff overlooking the sea. It is dark and rainy all winter, but the summers are often fine, if not overly warm. We won’t be bothered, I can assure you.”
“But what will we do?” Erasmus asked.
“Well, I was hoping you might be interested in more of what we’ve been doing this night. . . . No, I understand what you say. We will await the death of Eldrich. That will be our primary task: to outlive the mage.”
“It sounds rather a . . . slim purpose to have in life.”
“Survival? It is the one common purpose of the living, though mankind often forgets that. Survive and procreate. Our lives needn’t be reduced to an animal level entirely, though.” She smiled. “There are other things.”
Erasmus shifted around so that he could see her more easily. “Anna, why did you rescue me from the gorge? I was hunting you. I might have given you away. Tell me truthfully.”
She sat up, wrapping the blanket around her, the colors of fire playing in her disheveled tresses. “Is it difficult for you to believe that I could not let you drown? Yes, yes, I know—there was Garrick. But I had a vision that he would betray me. Survival, Erasmus. The animal desire to live.” She hung her head as though ashamed. “We are alike, you and I. Eldrich used you terribly and trapped you in the cavern to die. If there is anyone who should want to escape the mage, it is you, Erasmus. If you continued to serve him, what would he do next? He cares for you not at all, Erasmus, for you or anyone else.” She reached out and put her hand gently on his heart. “And I wanted an ally, a companion, for all of my fellows are dead . . . murdered. We might find something like happiness together, or at the very least, peace.”
“Peace,” Erasmus echoed.
They fell silent, listening to the dark sounds of the night and the river.
Anna snuggled down close to him as the fire burned to coals and in a moment she was breathing regularly, deeply asleep.
Why did she save me, Erasmus wondered. Certainly everything she said might be true, but these explanations were not the reason she had kept him alive. She was more cunning. He remembered her escape from the chamber with the seed. No, Anna had her own plans. Just how they involved Erasmus Flattery was the question.
He closed his eyes, but they sprang open again as it occurred to him that she might have murdered her guide thus—as he slept.