The Duke's Ballad

XV

On horses it was normally only a few hours ride to Elmsgarth, but with the drifted snow, the freezing temperature, and two wagons, it would take every minute until darkness and maybe longer. Aisling and her brother left the ordering of the mission to Harran. They ranged out along the road ahead. Their mounts helped to break a trail, and they watched for problems that might slow the procession.

Harran knew winter. For any garth it was one of the great enemies. The bitter cold taxed the endurance of the strongest as cold sapped their strength. The snowdrifts swiftly exhausted those who fought them. And here they fought not only snow and the cold but also time. But he had a trick or two up his sleeve. He’d taken double teams for each wagon. Then there were the two riders and the axmen with all the keep’s spare shovels in the second wagon. Oh, yes. His lord was relying on him, and the lives of a family depended on his skills. Harran did not intend to fail either keep or garth.

For the first hour they plodded on. The men who rode the wagon were beginning to shiver. Then Aisling came riding back, her face serious.

“Drift across the road, not high but long.”

Harran grinned happily as he turned to his men. “All right, lads. Here’s where you earn your pay. Let’s look at this drift.” A mile far-ther on they found it. Keelan, who had climbed it on foot to investigate the extent of the piled snow, was just returning to his waiting mount.

“It isn’t a bad one. Too deep for the wagons as it is, but we can either cut or tramp a path quite easily. Which do you think, Harran?”

Harran dropped from the wagon and studied the drift in turn. “Tramp it, I reckon.” He waved, and the men climbed down to join him. Aisling had climbed the first wagon and was ready to drive. With her far lighter weight she’d be of most use doing that. Keelan took the second wagon seat after hitching both their saddle horses to the rear of his wagon. Harran’s men linked arms in rows of three. They marched forward tramping the snow into a path.

Step by step they advanced again until they reached the clearer section of road, then they returned. Their breath stood like smoke plumes in the air. They warmed as they worked. It took no great length of time before Aisling could set her wagon in motion. She allowed the beasts to take their own time. They’d be careful. All she had to do was keep them in motion and on the tramped-down path. This she did until a call signaled Keelan that it was safe to follow.

It took several minutes after that for the men to climb back into the wagon. Harran took the opportunity to change the teams, the led teams coming up to replace the original ones. Aisling had taken her mount and disappeared around a bend ahead. Keelan followed to find her several miles later. He halted in dismay.

“Gunnora, preserve us. How in Hades did Jarria get over that?”

“She didn’t. I’d say that she went off the road here and cut across country, which we can’t do with the wagons.” Aisling surveyed the drift. It was as high as her own head, and while she suspected it did not extend far it would be a massive weight of snow to move. Keelan looked at her.

“Could you do anything? The wagons are a fair way behind us. Harran was changing the teams when I followed you.”

Aisling’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Maybe. I daren’t exhaust myself. From what Jarria said I may be needed as a healer, but I learned a few things in Escore. There was one…” She spoke to her mount, who planted his hooves and stood stolidly waiting. Aisling’s hands rose. Her fingers wove as she spoke words too softly for Kee-lan to hear although he could feel a kind of prickling in the air.

He reined his mount back to the bend, from where he could see if the wagons came in sight. Aisling was chanting softly now. He saw lights begin to dance over the drift, then with a rush they were gone, though not far. He heard the sound of brush creaking, then the snapping sounds of branches. He looked back in time to see the first wagon plodding into sight. The road ahead was clear as far as he could see.

Keelan kicked his mount forward cautiously. “What did you do?”

“I just shifted the drift a few yards. To that patch of brush.” She pointed. “The snow on the brush swapped places. With some kind of balance like that, it’s a much easier thing to do.”

“Why the snow from there?”

Aisling chuckled. “Because, dear brother, it would also look a bit suspicious for Harran to find a completely cleared path, no snow at all, and us standing here looking pleased with ourselves. With that exchange there’s some snow, enough to make everything look normal, and the shorter the distance I moved that weight, the less power I wasted. He knows both Ciara and I have some of the Gift, but he thinks it is only for healing. I would rather not burden him with the knowledge that my power is more than healcraft. Now, let’s ride on. See what other problems we’re going to face.”

Keelan followed, mentally estimating how much extra time that drift must have cost the garth-girl. Jarria would have had to circle far out. Right around the large patch of brush, which covered many acres. The road bent away after that, and she’d have had to ride over more rough country to find it again. Chilled to the bone as the child had been it was a marvel she’d made it. Old Hannion had said the two plow horses had been exhausted but would recover with a rest, hot mash, a warmed stable, and good hay.

Keelan nudged his mount to overtake his sister’s horse. He rounded the bend and halted with a groan. “Flames take the luck. That won’t be so easy to deal with.” Aisling muttered a searing agreement as she cast her gaze over the fallen tree. The look sharpened in both pairs of eyes simultaneously. Keelan dropped from his mount and walked up to touch the wood. He peered, rubbed the bark in his fingers.

“It’s dry. I think the whole thing was rotten ready, just waiting for the next high wind.”

“So it’s much lighter than green wood,” Aisling said slowly. Her head came up. “Kee, ride back to Harran. Tell him to keep the wagons moving slowly, but two men are to bring the loose teams up as quickly as is safe. We’ll try swinging this to one side, just enough to let us through. Once we get to Elmsgarth a wagon can return with ax men. We slay two birds with the same shot.”

Keelan obeyed. His mount had all the cat-footed sureness of the Torgian breed and cantered back along the slippery footing of the path with a comforting steadiness. Once back at the wagons Keelan spoke quickly to Harran. When the heir was done Harran called orders, and the loose teams trotted heavily off ahead. The wagon horses were reined in. They would keep moving but at a slow walk. They’d stay warmer than if they had to stand waiting for the tree to be swung aside.

Up at the tree Aisling and the men were fastening the chains to the roots. It would have been easier to pull at the other end. Branches were lighter, but they were also more likely to catch on rough places in the road or against other branches below the snow. To get a firm anchor it would have been necessary to affix the chains well down to-ward the trunk, which would also afford less leverage. The tree was large, but with two six-horse teams, they should be able to move it.

Aisling finished, checked her fastenings, and stepped back. A man moved to the head of each offside leader. They called, and the teams responded, huge hooves digging into the icy surface. The tree moved with reluctance. The beasts strained, snow and small gobbets of ice flying as their hooves gained traction. The tree creaked, scraped, and slid, branches grating against the roadway. Little by little it moved until just as the wagons reached them it was far enough to one side to permit them passage.

Aisling looked up. “Harran? Should we rest here?”

He looked up at the leaden sky. “Better not, lass. I think it will snow again soon. We should make time while we can. If we have to stop, then we can use that as a break, but until then we should keep moving.”

The road wound on. Jarria would have cut across some of the bends, Aisling knew. When they came to another of the longer low drifts, Harran had the men out to tramp a path at once. They were losing a little time but not a great amount thus far. Brother and sister continued on. They’d been traveling well, covering almost half of the distance already. Keelan rounded the bend ahead of her, and she heard his groan, loud in the clear still air.

“What… ? Ooh, damn!” They faced a drift. It was huge. It towered above them as they sat their horses. Here the road fell away on either side as it followed a slight ridge. For that reason it rarely flooded, but it made it dangerous to leave the track. They couldn’t go around. The country was rougher and even if they pulled back up the road and tried from there it would be impossible to take the wagons safely. Much of the lower land would be water-logged, ice over deep mud. The drift was aslant the roadway, and they could see it extended some distance. Keelan looked at his sister.

“What if you could exchange just part of it. It’d make a difference between digging that out all day and having to spend the night outside or having a chance.” He looked at the immense barrier. “Can you do that?”

Aisling sat her mount, closed her eyes, extended her hands and reached out. Her mind mapped the shape and weight of snow. Tentatively she prodded the problem. It wasn’t impossible. She could halve the drift, take away the portion closest. That would mean that Hannion had only to carve a path through one end. It would take an hour, maybe a little more with all of them digging.

But such use of power would leave her depleted. What if healing was needed for those at Elmsgarth when she arrived? Keelan was watching her closely.

“If we can’t get to them they will die,” he said quietly. “If we can but you cannot heal we may still save most. Use as little of your gift as possible, but use it.” He grinned suddenly. “The wagons won’t be up with us yet, and I have a plan.”

Aisling slipped back into her silver mists. Along the side of the road where it dropped—that would be a good place to dump the snow. She wouldn’t even have to lift the weight, just slide it over. Little snow clung to the steep slope, but the exchange would be helpful. She chanted softly, finally sitting back on her patient horse as the power flared. Snow cascaded down the slope while a dusting of snow appeared in its place.

She sagged in her saddle. After this Harran would have to do things the old-fashioned way. She watched wearily as Kirion took the short-handled wide-mouthed shovels from both horses. He scraped at the snow, then with hard twists of his wrists cascaded more snow from the drift face. He nodded at his handiwork. There, that looked as if two people had dug hard and vigorously for the hour they had been ahead.

He packed the shovels again. Reached over to take the reins of his sister’s mount and drew it to one side. The wagons creaked around the bend and halted by the drift.

Keelan looked up. “Looks as if this is the break you had in mind. We dug away some of it, but Aisling should rest. She worked too hard in this cold.” He allowed the eyelid away from the other men to drop slightly.

Harran had served the family all his life, and he’d known Ciara and Aisling had the Gift. He hadn’t known until now just how much power Aisling had, but Keelan guessed Harran would still not be greatly surprised. It wasn’t discussed, and both women were always careful to make no display even of their healcraft, but Harran could no doubt guess why Lady Aisling was exhausted. The master-at-arms said nothing of that, merely nodding to Keelan as the men climbed down to dig.

Keelan took the small lit brazier from the second wagon. He scooped snow into it and set that to melt. Beside it he placed a box filled with hay into which a lidded pot was tucked. It was still hot to the touch. Aisling had tied her horse to the back of the wagon and climbed in to join him. He waited until the water was bubbling, then added a handful of dried trennen leaves and several huge spoonfuls of honey from supplies. He filled a mug with the result and passed it to his sister. She drank eagerly and sighed.

“That’s so good. I’ll get down and help dig in a minute.”

“No, you will not!” Keelan said firmly. “Once you’ve eaten you’ll wrap yourself in a couple of blankets, dig into this straw, and go to sleep for the rest of the trip. I’ll see you’re wakened if we have to have your help. Otherwise you’ll rest until we arrive at Elmsgarth.” She would have objected, but he fixed her with a glare. “Don’t argue, sister. This way you’ll have some of your strength back to heal if you’re needed. The men think you’ve spent the last hour or more digging.”

“Harran won’t.”

“Harran isn’t a fool, and he’s served Aiskeep all his life. He’ll know but he won’t say anything. I wouldn’t be surprised if half of them guess, but they’ll say nothing either and they won’t mind you sleeping awhile.” He leaned over the wagon edge to call. Men arrived in pairs while their comrades continued to dig. They drank from the proffered mugs and accepted the plates of steaming mutton stew as Keelan spooned it from the pot in the hay box. Then they returned to digging. Aisling nestled into the straw, and her brother tucked her down into it. He pulled the blankets tighter and patted her arm.

“Sleep. I swear I’ll wake you if you’re needed.”

Her eyes slid shut, and he watched protectively as her breathing slowed. Good. They’d have that drift cleared soon. Nine men digging hard make a path quite quickly. Although, he thought when he looked up to estimate the daylight left, it would be close. If there were no more delays they would make it before dusk. If not, they’d be arriving after dark. Not a good time to be out in winter. The temperature would really start to fall then, and the gods know it was cold enough now.

A candlemark later the road was sufficiently clear for the wagons to move ahead. Keelan swung onto his horse’s back and rode ahead. In the second wagon Aisling lay curled asleep. Harran had threatened to call down curses on the head of any fool who woke her. Very soon after that the wagons met two smaller drifts. One could be tramped, but for the other Harran ordered logs tied to the chains and used the spare teams and logs as horse-drawn rollers to flatten and compress the longer drift.

With care they persuaded the nervous wagon beasts to surmount the flattened drift and continue on along the road. Keelan ranged up beside the first wagon and looked at the driver.

“Harran, if I rode ahead with a couple of the spare horses loaded with wood I could be at the garth in an hour.”

The master-at-arms nodded. “So you could, lad, if the road was clear, which the main trail may well be until it ends. However, it’s been some time since you visited Elmsgarth, and it was in summer. Remember how far it lies from the main road.”

Now Harran asked that, Keelan did recall it. He bit back a string of oaths although his face was eloquent enough. His grandmother’s old home lay at the end of a valley. Jarria would have left over two days ago. All that time the wind had blown, sometimes softly, but rising now and then to a howling blizzard. Within the narrow valley entrance the snow could have piled higher and higher, confined as it was.

Nor was it possible to circle and come at the garth from behind. The land rose past the valley entrance. The valley stayed lower, but on either side and behind it the cliffs became higher and steeper, the land outside the valley rougher. Nothing save a bird or one of the small mountain deer could have circled past the entrance along the tops and then found a way down the cliffs. And even the deer would most probably have failed. Keelan allowed his mount to pace slowly beside the wagon while he thought.

“What then if I ride to the valley entrance? I can return with word. If the gate is shut, then some could ride the spare team and come back ahead of the wagons. They could start the work. I could try my mount over the drifts then with them there in case I need aid.” His face twisted. “I could take a light load of wood. Harran, there are small children there. Jarria said it was for them that her father let her try. Am I less?”

The man bowed his head. “No, Lord’s heir. Go and do what you can for your people.” He watched as Keelan turned his horse. Hoof-beats faded along the icy road. Harran looked back along the wagons and then up at the sky again. The promise of snow was closer. His lips moved silently as he prayed.

“Lady of the Light, Lady who watches over those who love, have a family in your care tonight. Gunnora, keep them alive until we come to them.” He flicked the reins, and the heavy horses leaned harder into their collars. They were Aiskeep born and bred. Like the people, they would die trying if that was the need. It seemed a very long time before hoofbeats sounded again. Keelan was looking bleak.

“The whole mouth is choked. I don’t know how far back it extends, but at the valley entrance it must be two men high, maybe nearer three. Give me the team and men. I’ll start them digging.”

From behind in the second wagon a long clear whistle rose up. Keelan grinned. “I think we have company again.” He halted his mount until the wagon came level, then he smiled at the face that grinned back from the heap of blankets. “I see you’re awake.”

“I woke up awhile ago. I’ve been listening to what you said to Harran. Kee, it’s easier to move things that have less weight on the one spot. Harran has snowshoes in this wagon. Two pairs. We could make a light sledge and pile that with wood. We’d have to walk and drag it the length of the valley, but we’d have a better chance.”

He looked at her a moment. This was why Kirion had hated his small sister. She’d grown up at Aiskeep. She knew far more than Kirion ever would about the land, the animals, and people. She understood how to work with the land rather than to fight insurmountable odds and fail. Kirion had hated her for it; Keelan loved her. And her knowledge could save a family right now. He nodded.

“We’ll be at the entrance soon. Get out the snowshoes and start the men making a sledge. Find a couple of ropes to drag it. It’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.” Her face flashed into pleasure as she moved to excavate the snowshoes, then seek out lead ropes brought for their mounts. Several of the men dropped from the wagon’s tailboard to hunt out suitable pieces of wood while Harran contributed lengths of rawhide as ties to bind the sledge together.

They arrived at the snow-choked valley entrance still working feverishly. Most of the men moved in with shovels. Aisling fought her way up the shallow cliff. She was light, climbed like a cat, and could unobtrusively use her gift to help her. She could not travel along the cliff top but she could see what faced them. Once at the top she dropped a rope, and Keelan joined her. They stared along the narrow way. From below Harran hailed them and was in turn helped up. He studied the aspect carefully, then grunted.

“It could be worse. If we dig along one side and use a wagon to take the snow away we may be in before morning. The men will work until they drop. They know in some other winter it could be their family trapped.” He glanced downward. “They have the sledge done. Take time to eat and drink first. Then go with the blessing of Cup and Flame.” He started to scramble back down the rugged cliff face. Keelan followed. Aisling unfastened the rope, dropped it to them, and climbed down like a squirrel.

At the bottom she found the men looking over the sledge. It was crude but solidly made. It would do well enough, and wood was piling up onto it. With the load agreed, a couple of blankets were lashed over the chunks of wood to keep them from falling off if the sledge overturned. Aisling sat on the rear of the wagon as she ate and drank. Keelan sat beside her. Once their impromptu meal was concluded both stood. With no more than a hug for Harran from Aisling and a smile to their men from both, they marched forward, their snowshoes digging into the slope of drifted snow.

It was hard work, but within minutes they stood panting atop the drift. They bent to haul, and inch by inch the sledge came upward. Once it was there Keelan looked out along the snow-filled valley. He took up one sledge rope, laid it across his shoulder, and began to walk. Silently Aisling took up the other rope and fell in beside him. They moved with care. The minor snow flurries were thickening as they marched. Aisling cast a look upward. Harran and the men had better dig hard. There was a blizzard on the way.

Harran was anxiously aware of that. He spelled his men in twos, allowing each pair in turn to rest and warm his hands at the small brazier. Hot trennen was always simmering, and Harran, carrying his whetstone, kept the shovel edges sharp. Even snow or the granules of ice would blunt good steel in time. He watched the sky and his men alternately, praying for all of them and in particular the two who forged ahead of the rest.

Aisling was keeping up with her brother. On top of the heavy drift the going was almost easy. The wind had flattened the top, scouring away loose snow. She could see her footing plainly, and her lighter weight made the walking easier. Keelan was stronger but he sank deeper and had to use more energy to walk. The sledge glided along behind them.

Keelan glanced over toward the valley wall. The drift height was dropping slowly. Through the Elmsgarth valley the wind often blew almost in a direct line from garth to entrance. It was this which had piled the snow up high, but at this end the drift was quite a lot lower. They reached the end of the main drift and looked downward. Climbing down would not be difficult; the snow looked to have slipped right to the ground. But Aisling measured with her eyes.

“The snow down there must be still deep. Look at that tree. I remember the way the branches grow. From that it looks as if the snow is at least waist-deep along the track to the garth.”

Keelan didn’t recall the tree but he wondered. “Are you sure that’s all? That isn’t very deep even for us. There must be some other problem, or Jonro would have been out chopping wood. Even if the bandits took his ax he could still gather broken boughs.” He thought back. “Harran said there’s dry wood along the stream. Why wouldn’t Jonro have broken those up? He could have made a temporary ax of some kind.”

“Let’s go down. We take it carefully, use probe sticks to check ahead. You’re right. There must be something else.”

They moved down the drift until they and the sledge halted at the bottom. Aisling moved to the trees and stripped a long branch from one. With that probing ahead she stepped out slowly, Keelan behind her hauling the sledge. In this way they progressed until halfway down the valley, well past the trees that should have been firewood for the garth if they were desperate. Then Aisling stopped, her face puzzled as she probed. She squatted, shoveling snow away.

“What is it?”

Aisling leaped back, her eyes wide with horror. Her hands flew as she chanted, the words gabbling out as fast as she could mouth them. She finished with a word of command that made the snow shimmer silver momentarily. Then she stared at Keelan, answering the anxious question in his face.

“Rasti!” she said.

“What? They’re from Estcarp and the border there. I thought they never came so far south.”

Aisling was back checking the burrow mouth. “They have them in Escore too,” she said. “Huge ones, far larger than the ones from Estcarp. These are the Estcarp ones, but there must be forty of them. It takes three or even four to equal Shosho’s size but they’re crazy in winter. Sometimes they form a pack and then they fear nothing. They must be recent; Jarria said nothing.”

“So what do we do. It certainly explains why Jonro isn’t out cutting wood. I suppose these things have burrows all down the valley from here?”

Aisling looked down. “Probably not, but Jonro would bring a pony down to haul back the wood. After that he’d not risk it again.” She pointed. “See that white branch sticking up out of the snow over there? I think that’s a bone for a horse or pony. Dying peacefully of the cold’s a lot better than being eaten alive. But Jonro must be dead or injured; otherwise he’d be out cutting wood regardless.” She toed the burrow edge.

“I can deal with them, Kee. But I made a mistake just now. I panicked when I found that burrow. I used too much power making sure they didn’t move against us and I could feel them beginning to stir. I can put them into a deeper sleep. The smaller the animal the more often it needs to eat. In a coma they’ll burn up all their fat and die in a few days. I can spell that to happen, but then I’ll collapse. Leave me here and get the wood to the garth. Get a fire built up, then come back for me. It’s the only way.” She made her look stern and held her gaze on his until he nodded.

Aisling dug out the protective herbs she always carried. Some of Hilarion’s teaching could be used as well. Around her throat was the pendant. Rasti were of the Dark, the pendant of the Light.

Keelan stood watching her prepare. So he was to leave her in the snow, was he? Leave her to freeze and die if her warming and protective spells failed? No, that he’d not do. As a trained witch she was in charge while she was conscious and where the problem could be solved best by her gift. She could give him orders, but once she fell over, it was up to him what he obeyed. He hid a rueful smile. She’d be furious, but better she was alive and angry than dead while he explained to his grandparents how he’d let it happen. He waited for his time to come.