The Shadow Roads

Twenty-eight

Not all of Hafydd’s guards could fit in the boat, what withHafydd himself, Beldor Renne, the mapmaker Kai, and his manservant. Lord A’dennewatched the legless man carefully. If he had an ally in this place, it wasKai-whom Hafydd called “Kilydd.” Ever since they had entered the boat and setout along this unknown river he had felt some tension grow between the leglessman and Hafydd. There was some history there, Lord A’denne thought; someancient history, if he was to believe the things he was hearing.

He looked around, the river stretching broad and slickbeneath a low leaden sky. The forest there was almost unbroken, only theoccasional meadow interrupting the dense tangle of green. If men had ever dweltthere, it was a long age ago.

Kai shifted on the plank thwart, the Fael pillows that hadlined his barrow getting soiled and wet, their beautiful fabrics ruined.

“Do you recognize this place?” Lord A’denne asked.

Kai shook his head, drizzle running down his round, pinkface. “I traveled here once, long ago-with Sainth. Several generations of treeshave come and gone, embankments crumble, even the river might change its courseover so many centuries-but this is the way, all the same.”

Lord A’denne glanced over at Hafydd, who sat in the stern bythe helmsman, if that’s what you would call the black-clad guard who anxiouslyclutched the tiller. No one spoke much in the knight’s presence, but hisattention seemed to be elsewhere, and A’denne refused to be treated like justanother one of Hafydd’s servants. He might feel the same fear of the man thateveryone else did, but he would be damned if he’d show it!

“Where is it we go?” the nobleman whispered.

Kai glanced at him, then away, like a truant schoolboy. “Anisland. There is an ancient, sacred spring there. Hafydd is looking for theresting place of his … of Caibre’s father-the great sorcerer Wyrr. It is hisplan to give him up to Death.”

Lord A’denne shook his head. “I seem to have fallen into anightmare. Death? Is this not a creature of fable? An artifice of theballadeer?”

Kai closed his eyes, a faint smile flickering over his lips.“I wish it were so. The creature we call Death was once a sorcerer, likeWyrr-or perhaps more akin to his father, Tusival. But his mind turned intounwholesome paths and over an age he grew into the creature we now call Death-asreal as you or I.”

A’denne felt a shiver run up his back and along his arms,his hands twitching once involuntarily. “Why has he brought me?” he asked alittle desperately.

A hard rain spattered down on the river then, a sound likehail on gravel. The legless man turned and looked at him, his face glisteningand running with rain. “Hafydd does not carry his enemies with him in hope thatthey will convert to his cause, that is certain. You are to be sacrificed, LordA’denne. That is what I think. Beldor Renne knows something of this, and he isnot clever enough to keep knowledge to himself. You might learn something froma conversation or two with the Renne-”

“A’denne!”

It was Hafydd, glaring forward over the pumping oarsmen.

“Your turn at the sweeps.”

The nobleman made his way aft, stepping gingerly over thebaggage they carried, his hands on the wet gunwales, rain pounding down uponhis back, running inside the neck of his coat. He took the offered oar from oneof the guards and tumbled into place, setting the sweep between the tholepins,hesitating only a second to catch the rhythm of the others, then digging hisoar into the rain-battered river. The slick wood slipped between his fingers,and he gripped it more tightly, his hands cold and stiff from sitting. Heglanced out at the passing riverbank, tree branches drooping down, heavy withrain.

You are to be sacrificed. The words echoed in hismind. Sacrificed!

Hafydd sat staring darkly at the shore, his manner grim.Lord A’denne wondered if it would be possible to kill the knight. Certainlythe guards would immediately bring down any man who managed it, but what ofthat? A’denne believed his life was forfeit anyway. If he was to be sacrificed,let him choose the cause he would be sacrificed for. How to manage it, that wasthe difficulty. Hafydd was vigilant and possessed powers of which others knewlittle. Others but for Kai … Kai knew more than he was telling, he wascertain of that.

Sacrificed!

Hafydd stood and drew his sword from its scabbard. Lord A’dennealmost lost pace with the oarsmen, his eyes fixed on the blade, but Hafydd satdown again and thrust the smoky blade into the river. For a moment he sat, eyesclosed in concentration, and then he cursed with such perfect rage thateveryone on the boat was overcome by fear.

No one could clearly see what Hafydd was doing. The knightwas all but hidden by trees and bushes, and though it was not yet night, thethick cloud and shadows beneath the wood held almost all the light at bay. Heperformed some arcane ritual involving fire, for he could be seen walkingaround a blaze-and once he had walked through it! Apparently he had suffered noharm, for the ritual continued.

Some hours later he stumbled into the camp, his guards rushingto support him. They lowered him on a log, where he slumped with his head downbetween his knees.

Lord A’denne realized at that moment that here was his opportunity.Everyone’s attention was on Hafydd, even while men tried to look busy at theirappointed tasks. He went quickly to the fire and ladled some thick stew from apot into a bowl. No one paid him the least attention, and A’denne set the bowldown for a moment, waving his hands in the air as though the bowl had been toohot to hold. He took up bit of cloth that lay there and used it to carry thebowl, hoping no one realized the cloth had been thrown down on a sharp kitchenknife.

A’denne could hardly catch his breath, and had to exercisefirm control to keep his hands from shaking.

You are dead anyway, he told himself. What betterway to die than killing this sorcerer?

He felt as though he were pulled half out of his body-sothat he both animated his limbs and was someone else, watching. His visionnarrowed so that all he could see was Hafydd, bent over like a man exhaustedbeyond measure. His head was bent so his face was hidden, only the oval of dullgray hair apparent. A’denne knew that he would have to get the knife intoHafydd’s throat where the major blood vessels ran. Nothing else would do. Onechance; that was all he would have. He made himself breathe and tried toconcentrate his will as he had so often in tournaments. It would be like thejoust-one opportunity and no room for errors.

The guards glanced at him as he approached, then, seeing thefood, let him through.

“Sir Eremon?” A’denne said softly, bending over and offeringthe soup.

Hafydd raised his head, his gaze out of focus, clearlyconfused, but then he raised his hands to take the bowl. The second Hafydd beganto take the weight of the bowl, A’denne drove the point of his blade toward theexposed throat.

He felt his hand stop, clasped in a grip like stone. Hafyddlooked up at him, his eye suddenly clear, the stew, unspilled, in one hand, A’denne’swrist in the other. The nobleman dropped the knife unwillingly.

“You were too respectful, A’denne,” the knight said. “Yougave yourself away.” Hafydd shook his head, a look of disgust, perhaps evendisappointment, crossing his face.

A’denne was dragged back by two guards, and Hafydd took upthe spoon from the bowl and calmly began to eat his stew, as though nothinguntoward had happened. A’denne thought he would be killed then, but instead hewas thrown roughly down on his bedding and left, as though he were so littlethreat they needn’t do more.

For a moment he gazed at the little group surroundingHafydd, but then he realized someone regarded him, and turned to find Kaistaring at him evenly.

“Why didn’t you speak to me?” the legless man demandedsoftly. “That was your one chance, and you’ve wasted it!”

For a day Hafydd slumped in the stern of the boat, like aman too ill to care where they went or why. Seldom did his head rise, and whenit did his eyes were not focused, and his flesh was an unhealthy gray. Hishead soon fell forward again, and he appeared to sleep fitfully. His guardshovered over him like nursemaids, their faces filled with concern.

A’denne was seated in the bow with Kai and his servant,Ufrra, when he was struck with a thought. He turned his head away so that nonemight see his lips move and leaned toward Kai, speaking as softly as he could.

“We might overturn the boat,” he whispered.

Kai leaned to one side so that he was hidden from theoarsmen by the large bulk of Ufrra. “He cannot be drowned, even if this couldbe done by only three of us.”

Lord A’denne turned away, staring at the passing riverbank.The sky remained obscured by cloud, but the position of the sun could be foundnow, as it struggled to burn away the haze, illuminating a circle of cloud witha faint urgent glow.

“How much farther?” Hafydd demanded. He was much recoveredafter a day of utter listlessness, but his mood was black.

They made a camp by the river in small clearing among willows.The dark, threatening sky was breaking up, revealing the last of the day’slight, a sky of fading blue, high up, thin wisps of orange-pink.

Kai shrugged. “A day. Two days. I can’t be sure. It was anage ago that I came this way.”

Hafydd glared down at the legless man in his barrow, whoalone among them appeared to have no fear of Hafydd and his temper. “If I findyou are sending me on a merry chase, Kilydd, I shall cut off your remaininglimbs. I will shatter your eardrums and pluck out your eyes, too. And you maylive that diminished life as long as you desire.” Hafydd turned and walked away.

Kai watched the dark figure go into the gloom, his face an impassivemask. Then he turned and smiled at Lord A’denne. “When you are a cripple, longpast being of interest to the fairer sex, and not inclined toward drink, youmust take your pleasures where you may.”