Beyond the High Road

9

The slope lay blanketed in shadow as thick as ink. Vangerdahast rode in silence, keeping a careful watch on the dark sky behind them, cringing inwardly at the constant clatter of horse hooves on shifting stone. He expected to see the ghazneth come streaking out of the mists above Orc’s Pool at any moment, but his greatest fear was that he would not see it at all, that it would swoop in from some unwatched corner of the sky and disembowel them all before he could cast a single spell. His fingers kept tracing patterns of protection. Only the knowledge that the magic would draw the phantom like a signal fire kept him from uttering the incantations to activate the enchantments.

Finally, the companions crested the top of the hummock and began to traverse a barren, moonlit clearing lacking so much as a boulder to hide behind. They did not have even the stonemurk to conceal them, for the rolling hill lands made the wind too erratic and scattered to sustain its load of sand and loess. The trio urged their mounts across the clearing at a trot.

Vangerdahast finally began to relax when they reached the other side of the hillock and descended into the sheltering shadows of the adjacent gulch, but not so Rowen. The ranger continued to push hard, leading them up a sandy creek at a near gallop for several long minutes, then abruptly dismounting to double back along a dangerous slope of blond bedrock. When they reached the summit, they mounted again and trotted across another exposed summit, then repeated the process three more times before Rowen finally dropped into a winding gulch and stayed there.

The ranger scanned the sky one last time, then waved Vangerdahast and Tanalasta up beside him. “We’ll follow this gully up onto Gnoll Flats,” Rowen said, “then turn south toward the Storm Horns. The stonemurk could be pretty bad up there, but it’ll die down for a while about dawn. We’ll be looking for a pair of mountains Alusair has been calling the Mule Ears.”

“We’ll know them when we see them, I take it,” Vangerdahast said. He did not bother asking Rowen’s reason for detailing the route. With the ghazneth on their trail, being separated was one of the more pleasant reasons it was wise for everyone to know the way. “Is that where we’ll meet Alusair?”

Rowen shifted in his saddle and was a little too careful to keep his eye on the trail. “Actually, no. That’s where she was three days ago, when she received Tanalasta’s sending.”

“And where is she now?” Vangerdahast was all too confident he would not like the answer.

Rowen shrugged. “We’ll have to see.” He turned to Tanalasta. “You can follow a trail, can’t you?”

“I can,” said Tanalasta.

Rowen nodded as though he had expected no less and drew a somewhat surprised smile from Tanalasta. Not seeming to notice the effect he had on her, he continued to address the princess, ignoring Vangerdahast entirely.

“Alusair was somewhat, er, reluctant to suspend her search,” the ranger explained. “We’ll return to the last camp and track her from there.”

“Then she hasn’t found Emperel.” Vangerdahast leaned on his saddle horn and stretched over to infuse himself into the conversation. “So what has she been doing up here?”

“Following him, obviously,” said Tanalasta. “Will you let the man speak, Vangey?”

Vangerdahast shot a scowl at the princess, but she did not seem to notice. Her gaze was fixed too sternly on the ranger.

“Continue, Rowen.”

“As you command, Princess.”

“She asked you to call her Tanalasta,” grumbled Vangerdahast. The cad was winning her favor far too quickly with that respectful act of his. “And why not? You’ve already seen the crown jewels.”

“Vangerdahast!” Tanalasta gave him a withering scowl, then looked back to Rowen. “Must I call on Rowen to remind you who is the royal here?”

Rowen’s eyes grew bright and white in the moonlight. He glanced between the princess and Vangerdahast, allowing his sword hand to drift uneasily toward his sword pommel. The wizard started to utter a dark warning, then caught himself and thought better of it. The more he picked on the boy, the more determined Tanalasta would be to like him.

Vangerdahast looked away, preparing himself for a distasteful task. “I hope the princess will forgive me. I was only trying to put the boy at ease.”

“His name is Rowen,” said Tanalasta.

“Please, if the Royal Magician wants to call me a boy, I won’t be offended,” said Rowen. “To tell you the truth, it’s been so many years since I’ve been called that I find it funny.”

“Then I am happy to make you laugh, Rowen,” said Tanalasta. “From henceforth, the Royal Magician may address us as ‘boy’ and ‘girl,’ and we will call him ‘grandfather.’”

“I am sure the royal court will find your decision most amusing,” Vangerdahast replied, finding himself grinding his teeth. As trustworthy as Rowen might be, Vangerdahast could not have the princess falling in love with a Cormaeril. After the Abraxus Affair, that would be tantamount to bedding a Sembian. “If we are done making young Cormaeril laugh, perhaps he could tell us about Emperel?”

Rowen looked to Tanalasta, and when she nodded, began. “There really isn’t much to tell. We picked up his trail a few miles east of Halfhap and followed him across the Stonebolt Trail toward Shouk’s Ambush, then he suddenly found someone else’s trail and followed it south to a tomb in the foothills.”

“A tomb?” Vangerdahast asked.

“How old?” Tanalasta asked. “What type?”

“It was very old, Milady,” said Rowen. “As for the type-I’m no expert on such things. It was set beneath the roots of a great twisted oak, black of bark and so filled with rot that it’s a wonder the thing was still standing. There were old glyphs carved into the trunk such as I have never seen.”

“Glyphs?” Tanalasta asked, growing excited. “Were they Elvish?”

Rowen shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. They were very sinuous and graceful.”

Tanalasta said, “They sound Elvish.”

“As does the tomb,” Vangerdahast agreed.

“You’re thinking Tree of the Body…”

“But twisted and black?”

Rowen’s head pivoted back and forth between his escorts, not quite keeping pace with the exchange.

“Twisted and black,” said Tanalasta. “Yes, that is interesting.”

“No elf would sprout such a thing, and if it’s rotting…”

“There are evil elves.”

“True, but drow grow mushrooms, not trees,” Vangerdahast said. “And they live underground.”

“I’m talking about wood elves, not drow. Don’t you recall the Year of Distant Thunder?”

Rowen turned to Tanalasta and said, “If I may-“

“The Bleth family, of course,” said Vangerdahast, cutting the cad off, “but Mondar was in the wrong there.”

“They could have told him that before they killed his whole family,” Tanalasta said. “It was a massacre-an elven massacre.”

“Excuse me!” Rowen said, raising his voice loud enough to be heard. “But I am sorry to disappoint you. The elves have nothing to do with this tomb.”

Vangerdahast and Tanalasta both frowned, then asked together, “You’re sure?”

“We found some garish old rings, a silver hair comb,” said Rowen, “and a lady’s stiletto hidden in the handle of a brass fan.”

Tanalasta raised her brow. “That’s certainly not elven.”

“Nor were the vambraces in the next tomb,” said Rowen.

“The next tomb?” Vangerdahast gasped. “There were two?”

Rowen shook his head. “Three… so far, all opened. Emperel followed whoever he was tracking to each of them. We think that’s where be ran into the ghazneth.”

Vangerdahast and Tanalasta fell silent, trying in their own ways to make sense of what the ranger was telling them. The tombs Rowen described did not belong to the Sleeping Sword. Vangerdahast visited that cavern periodically to inspect its condition and renew the stasis spell that kept the young lords in suspended animation, and he knew for a fact there was not a tree within two miles of it.

“These tombs,” Tanalasta said. “Were they all similar?”

“Some seemed older than others,” said Rowen. “Or at least the trees were larger, and they had the same glyphs carved into the trunks. But the things we found in. each one were different. In the last one, it was a war wizards’ throat clasp.”

The ranger gestured to the unfastened clasps at the throats of his two companions.

Vangerdahast raised his brow. “I don’t suppose you have that clasp with you?”

“Sorry. Princess Alusair said-“

“I can imagine what she said,” Vangerdahast replied.

“Quiet!” Tanalasta hissed.

The princess guided her horse over in front of her companions, forcing them to a stop. Vangerdahast’s eyes went instantly to the sky and his hand to his throat clasp. If the ghazneth had found them anyway…

Tanalasta’s shadowy hand reached out to catch him by the arm. “Orcs,” she whispered.

Vangerdahast almost sighed in relief, then realized it would be impossible to scatter the orcs without using magic and alerting the ghazneth to their location. He scanned the gully slopes, already plotting a devastating sequence of fire spells. If Tanalasta could see the swiners, then the swiners could see her. Orc eyes were so sensitive they could see a creature’s body heat in the dark.

When Vangerdahast detected no sign of the creatures, he asked, “Where?”

“I don’t know,” Tanalasta replied. “I smell them.”

“Smell them?” Vangerdahast hissed. “If they were close enough to smell, we’d be dead by now.”

“If we were relying on your nose, yes,” whispered Rowen, “but Tanalasta has taken a bath. She can smell something other than herself.”

The ranger dismounted and scraped a fistful of dirt from the gully floor, letting it pour from his hand. Once he had determined that the breeze was blowing across the gully, he led Vangerdahast and Tanalasta over to the windward side of the ravine and motioned for them to dismount. The trio spent the next half hour stumbling along in the shadows without seeing any sign of the orcs. Vangerdahast was about to insist that they mount again when a distant clatter began to echo up the gulch behind them. They paused to listen until the orcs had passed, then returned to their saddles and continued up the gully.

The companions remained silent for another half hour, until they reached the head of the gulch and ascended onto the moonlit expanse of the Gnoll Flats. Despite Rowen’s earlier warning, the stonemurk was not bad-at least not compared to the plains closer to the Stonebolt Trail-and Vangerdahast could barely see the dark wall of the Storm Horns in the far distance. Try as he might, he could find no peaks that reminded him of mule ears.

They stayed close to the edge of the flats, ready to duck down the nearest ravine at the first sign of orcs or the ghazneth. After the sheltering confines of the gully, the empty expanses made Vangerdahast feel exposed and cranky, and only the thought of crossing the barrens in full daylight prevented him from suggesting they make camp in the shelter of one of the many ravines they were passing.

If the lack of cover made Tanalasta or Rowen nervous, they did not show it. The pair rode side-by-side for the rest of the night, their legs almost touching. Despite his weariness and petulant mood, Vangerdahast found he did not have the heart to intrude on the moment-not even for the good of the realm. Clearly, the ranger respected the princess for her knowledge and talent, and she seemed to return that respect with genuine fondness. Outside of Alaphondar and her own family, Tanalasta had experienced little enough of either in the palace. If she had found it in the Stonelands with Rowen Cormaeril, then the royal magician could put Cormyr’s interests aside for a few hours. Despite the trouble she was causing him, Vangerdahast loved the princess like a daughter, and he wanted to see her as happy as it was possible for a queen to be.

Vangerdahast could never let them marry, of course. Allowing the child of a Cormaeril to ascend to the throne would insult the families who had stayed loyal during the Abraxus Affair, and invite mischief from those who had wavered, but marriage was not the only trail to carnal happiness. If their fondness continued to grow, perhaps he could talk to Tanalasta about working out a discreet arrangement. He had certainly done the same thing often enough for Azoun, and it might provide just the leverage he needed to disabuse her of this royal temple nonsense.

The eastern horizon was beginning to brighten with predawn light when Vangerdahast heard the pair murmuring quietly. He slumped forward and allowed his chin to drop onto his chest, then urged his horse slowly forward until he was close enough to hear their conversation. His eavesdropping spells were far more effective and convenient, but with the ghazneth flying about, he had no choice except to resort to conventional methods.

“…led you to worship the Mother?” Tanalasta was asking. “Chauntea is hardly a popular goddess among the nobility.”

“Until Gaspar dishonored us, we Cormaerils were less a family of polities than of land,” Rowen explained. “Chauntea saw fit to bless our farms with her bounty, and we venerated her in return.”

“I see,” said Tanalasta. “You still worship her, though you have lost your lands?”

“I do.” Rowen looked away, then added, “After I have redeemed my name in Princess Alusair’s service, it is my hope that the king will someday grant me a small holding.”

Tanalasta reached across to grasp the ranger’s hand. “Have faith, Rowen. Chauntea rewards those who serve her.”

“Aye, those who serve the Mother flourish in her bounty.” The exchange sent a shudder down Vangerdahast’s spine. He urged his horse forward between theirs, forcing the princess to withdraw her hand.

“What is it?” the wizard asked, feigning a yawn. He saw now that Rowen would be more dangerous as a lover than as a husband. “Is something wrong?”

Tanalasta scowled. “Nothing a little consideration couldn’t cure.”

Vangerdahast blinked groggily. “Am I interrupting something?” There was just enough of an edge in his voice to hint that it had better not be so, and he looked from the princess to Rowen. “Have you been sizing up the crown jewels again?”

“Vangerdahast!” Tanalasta raised her hand as though she might slap the wizard, then shook her head in frustration. “You are the only one here who has been behaving poorly-and I’m quite sure you know it!”

Vangerdahast continued to glare at Rowen. “Well?”

The ranger’s face darkened. “It would be a crime for me to respond as you deserve, Lord Magician, but you must know you are assailing my honor. I have only pure thoughts for the princess.”

“Good.” Vangerdahast glanced at Tanalasta just long enough to wince at the fury in her eyes, then looked back to Rowen. “Because you know how unfortunate it would be if she were to become, ah, attached to you.”

Rowen looked confused. “Attached? To me?”

“Pay him no mind,” said Tanalasta. “Vangerdahast has a notoriously tawdry mind.”

Rowen’s posture grew tense. “I see. Well, there is no danger of that. Roosters do not pursue swans.”

“No, they don’t,” agreed Vangerdahast. “They keep their distance, lest people start mistaking the swan for a hen.”

“I am not a poultry bird.” Tanalasta raised her chin and slapped the reins against her weary horse’s neck, goading it into a trot. “I will thank you both to-“

Her sentence was cut short by the pained shriek of a horse.

Fearing Tanalasta’s mount had broken a leg, Vangerdahast sank his heels into Cadimus’s flanks and shot after the princess. As he approached, she wheeled around and sprang past in the opposite direction, leaning out of her saddle to grab for something on the ground. A cacophony of snarling and snorting arose from the rim of the plain, and it finally dawned on the wizard that the horse’s cry had been caused by something more serious than a broken leg.

Vangerdahast spun Cadimus toward the sound and saw a wall of orc silhouettes clambering over the rim of the plain. The swiners were no more than a hundred paces distant, with thick snouts and pointy ears outlined in black against the purple horizon. Closer by, a dozen hunch-shouldered shapes were rising from a line of shallow camouflage pits not far behind Rowen, who lay struggling to drag himself free of his thrashing horse. The poor beast had four crooked spears lodged in its rib cage, and every time it tried to roll to its knees, its breath would wheeze out around the shafts.

Tanalasta brought her mount to a stop beside the fallen horse and stretched down toward Rowen. He reached up to grasp her hand, then his horse screeched again as its abdomen was pierced by a rough-hewn spear. Another shaft hissed through the air above the princess’s back, and two more clattered into the stones around the hooves of her horse. The ranger looked back toward the camouflage pits, then quickly pulled his arm away-the first twelve orcs were only ten paces away.

“There’s no time, Princess. Go!”

“And leave you here? What kind of lady would that make me?” Tanalasta swung out of the saddle and glanced back at Vangerdahast. “Do something!”

The command was hardly necessary. Vangerdahast was already holding one of his favorite wands. As soon as Tanalasta stooped down to shove Rowen’s fallen horse off him, he shouted his command word and whipped the tip at the closest orc. The brute cried out in shock and went tumbling across the ground backward, limbs flailing and head cracking against the rocky ground. The wizard repeated the gesture three more times before the princess rocked the horse high enough for Rowen to pull out of his stirrup. The ranger dragged himself free and stood, blocking Vangerdahast’s angle to the remaining orcs.

“By the Purple Dragon!” Vangerdahast moved forward to get a better angle, then sent another ore flying. The rest of the horde was fast coming in from the side, and they would soon be within spear-throwing range. “Tanalasta, get that fool out of the way!”

“Watch your manners, Vangerdahast.” Tanalasta swung back into her saddle, then reached for her throat clasp. “See to your horse Rowen, then it’s time for us to leave.”

Vangerdahast stopped on the other side of Rowen’s horse and cleared the area with three quick shakes of his wand, then jammed it back into its sleeve and reached into his cloak. It seemed to take forever to find the component he needed, perhaps because his eyes were already scanning the brightening sky for the ghazneth’s dark wings.

Rowen brought his sword down across the back of his horse’s neck, then grabbed the princess’s outstretched hand and swung into the saddle behind her. He slashed at something on the other side of Tanalasta’s horse, and an orc squealed in pain. Tanalasta slapped her bracer and blasted another with four golden bolts of magic. Then, finally, she wheeled her mount around and shoved her hand into the weathercloak’s escape pocket. There was a nearly inaudible pop, and Vangerdahast found himself staring across Rowen’s dead horse at three stunned orcs.

The wizard dropped his reins and gestured with his free hand, blasting two of them apart with magic bolts, then finally found a small bar of iron. He pointed this at the third trembling orc and rattled off a quick spell, then commanded, “Move nothing.”

The orc’s arms dropped to its sides, and Vangerdahast spun in his saddle to find the largest part of the horde only thirty paces away. He fished a small vial from his cloak pocket and quickly unstoppered it, then pointed his hand at a spot about fifteen paces away. The wizard started a long incantation and began to pour a stream of white grains from the small flask. As the granules fell, they flashed into smoke, and a tiny flame flickered to life where he was pointing.

By the time he finished, the orcs had begun to hurl their spears in his direction. The range was still too great for the crooked weapons to have any accuracy, but Vangerdahast did not feel like taking chances. He circled around Rowen’s dead horse and waited for the leading swiners to reach the line of tiny flames he had created on the ground, then spoke the command word.

A searing curtain of flame sprang to life, rising more than twenty feet into the air and stretching three hundred paces in each direction. The air filled instantly with the wail of dying orcs, and the stench of charred flesh grew overwhelming. Scarecrows of flame separated from the fiery wall and stumbled around blindly for a few minutes, then collapsed to the ground to burn themselves out.

Vangerdahast watched long enough to be certain none of his foes made it through the flame wall in one piece, then turned to the orc he had ordered to stand still. The swiner was standing in the same place, staring at his feet with wide, red-tinged eyes. The wizard rode up beside the trembling warrior, kicked the fellow’s spear out of his grasp, and scanned the heavens one last time. The sun had already crested the horizon, and now a brilliant golden light was spreading westward across the sky. The winds were, as Rowen had promised last night, remarkably still, and there was no stonemurk to obscure visibility in any direction.

Vangerdahast studied the heavens until he felt certain the ghazneth had not yet come, then dismounted and rubbed a small square of silk over his prisoner’s grimy armor. The orc snorted in its guttural language, begging his tormentor to stop toying with it and be done with it. The wizard only smiled and whispered a soft incantation. He stuffed the ruined silk into the creature’s mouth and mounted his horse again, then rode a short distance off and called, “Flee!”

The orc stumbled a single step forward and caught itself. After a brief glance in Vangerdahast’s direction, it turned and scuttled away without even taking the time to pick up its spear. The wizard turned south toward the Storm Horns and saw his companions waving to him from the crest of a small ridge nearly a mile distant. Behind them, the rocky barrens and scattered brush of Gnoll Flats gave way to a torturous labyrinth of dun-colored spires and twisting canyons that slowly rose toward the barren slopes of two high, slender peaks that could only be the Mule Ears.

Vangerdahast clasped his weathercloak and thrust his hand into his escape pocket. A black door hissed into existence before him, and he quickly urged Cadimus forward. He would not be able to use the pocket for the rest of the day, but he had plenty of other ways to leave an area quickly. Besides, Tanalasta had already used hers, and he had no intention of going anywhere without her-especially not with Rowen riding the same horse.

An instant later, Vangerdahast found himself sitting beside his companions, struggling to acclimate to his new location. No matter how many times he teleported, even over such a short distance, he still suffered from that first moment of bewilderment. Tanalasta’s hand grasped his shoulder and quickly undid his weathercloak’s throat clasp.

“Are you all right, Vangey?” she asked, still holding his arm. “You’re a royal pain in the arse, but I’d hate to lose you to an orc.”

“I’m fine.” Vangerdahast blinked the last of his confusion away. They were much closer to the labyrinth than he had realized, with the mouth of a large, baked-mud canyon just a few hundred paces ahead. “Let’s hurry. I slapped an orc with some decoy magic, but with this light, it won’t take the ghazneth long to discover its mistake.”

When Vangerdahast started forward, Rowen leaned over to grab his reins. “This is the way to the Mule Ears.” He pointed toward a much smaller canyon a half mile to the east. “Nothing lies that way but trouble and dead ends.”

“Then stop wasting our time telling me about it,” the wizard grumbled. “And why don’t you ride with me. Cadimus is…”

Vangerdahast did not bother to finish, for Tanalasta had already turned and started toward the distant canyon at a stiff canter. He spurred his stallion after her, idly wondering if there was not some way to convince them that Chauntea would frown on burdening a poor mare with two riders.