The Claiming of the Highlands Page 9

  Thomas had been wandering through the small forest the Marchers had chosen for their hidden camp for more than an hour already. He had said that he wanted to scan their surroundings before they began their journey. Oso assumed that he simply wanted some time to himself, because if Thomas wanted to get a sense of what was around them he could use the Talent and gain a glimpse of what was occurring for hundreds of leagues in any direction.

  “Help Aric and the others clean the breakfast pots, Oso,” ordered Coban. “We need to be ready to go as soon as Thomas is back.”

  “Why me?”

  “Because if you don’t, I’ll tell Anara you were dancing with a young, beautiful woman with blonde hair in the court of the High King,” replied Coban with a grin. “She’ll eat you for breakfast.”

  “I was just dancing,” protested Oso. “So was everyone else.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” said Coban, nodding his head sagely. “The only thing she’ll care about is you. Besides, I’m sure that Anara can do quite a bit with that dagger of hers besides whittling.”

  “All right, all right.” Oso headed down toward the stream where Aric and a few other Marchers had already started working on the pots. “I assume that I’ll be doing this all the way back to the Crag?”

  “Smart boy.” Coban walked off chuckling to himself.

  “Wonderful, just wonderful,” Oso mumbled under his breath.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  A Good Sign

  The sun had barely touched the horizon, yet the sailors on the River Dancer already were making their final preparations to untie the river barge from the dock at Eamhain Mhacha. King Gregory had been very specific when arranging passage with Burnley, master of the craft. He wanted to be away from the city at first light after the previous night’s feast. There was a bonus in it for Burnley and his crew, and Burnley wanted that bonus. His goal was to be at the eastern shore of the Heartland Lake before Eamhain Mhacha awoke, which he could accomplish if he maneuvered the River Dancer into the swiftly running current of the Corazon River in the next few minutes.

  Burnley, who looked more like the retired soldier that he was than a ship’s captain, stalked the decks of the craft much like a Swordmaster would his training ground, yelling instructions to his crew as they pulled on and readjusted lines, moved cargo out of the way, and tied everything down before they slipped their lines. The River Dancer was one of the largest barges in the Kingdoms, which was why Gregory had hired him. It carried his fifty men, horses and gear comfortably.

  Perhaps most important to the King of Fal Carrach, the River Dancer had served first as a troop carrier before becoming a river barge, thus Burnley’s love for the old vessel. Burnley could beach the front of the barge, then lower a gangplank that ran across the front of the ship so that armored riders could charge off onto the land or into the surf. The River Dancer hadn’t been used in that way for quite some time, but Burnley had assured Gregory that it still could perform such a service if circumstances warranted. Burnley hoped that their journey wouldn’t require it, but he kept that possibility in the back of his mind. The King of Fal Carrach seemed to suspect that some danger might be just over the horizon. So he’d be ready, though he had no desire to fight. He’d left the military for a reason.

  As sailors slipped the River Dancer’s lines free from the dock the large barge swiftly caught the current. At the aft of the vessel, a metal chain linked two massive rudders placed on each side of the craft, allowing the helmsman to guide the barge into the center of the river.

  With only a few fishermen out on the water in the early morning, the sailors didn’t have to worry about any other ships getting in their way, and Burnley exhorted them on as they lay into their tasks. Having spent years on the river, they knew their craft. In a matter of minutes Eamhain Mhacha was a speck in the distance and the River Dancer, true to its name, skimmed across the water like a dancer across the stage despite its great size.

  Kaylie sat near the bow of the craft, watching the landscape speed by. It was going to be a beautiful day, the breeze already strong as the sun began to shine brightly down on her. She reveled in the freedom she felt, yet she couldn’t help but think of the fun she had experienced during the feast the night before. That’s where her mind was when her father approached, as Gregory was finally satisfied that they were well on their way and free from Rodric.

  “He was different than the last time we spoke,” said Kaylie of Thomas, thinking back to their picnic in the forest before Ragin had led a troop of soldiers to capture him.

  “Much is different since you last spoke to him,” agreed Gregory.

  He continued to scan the shorelines of the river. Even though the River Dancer benefited from the strong current, the Corazon River tightened in places to the point where enterprising bandits, or perhaps a more dangerous enemy, could leap the distance between the barge and shoreline and land on the deck. True, it was unlikely to occur with fifty armed, vigilant soldiers on the barge. But who was to say what was or was not possible?

  “I know, Father. You’re right. And there was always a hardness to him, a wariness. But there was also an openness, at least before Tinnakilly, but not anymore. Do you think he’ll let me back in?”

  “It could just be a matter of time, Kaylie,” sighed Gregory. “But the fact that he danced with you is an important step.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Much has changed for Thomas,” continued Gregory, turning his gaze from the landscape to look at his daughter. “Think about what he’s been through, not just in Tinnakilly, but for the past ten years, to say nothing of the snippets coming out of the Highlands. If the stories are to be believed, and if what my scouts say is true, Thomas and his Marchers have been engaged in a war for the last few months to clear the Highlands of Killeran and his reivers, as well as a swarm of Ogren. That is no easy task. So, the fact that he opened himself up, even if just a little bit, and chose to spend time with you last night, I take as a good sign.”

  Perhaps her father was right. Perhaps it was just a matter of time. Not allowing her impatience to get the better of her was going to be her primary challenge. Kaylie looked at her father for a moment longer before he turned his attention back to the swiftly passing shoreline.

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  Pursued

  Gregory had enjoyed the last few days on the Corazon River and, after the excitement and intrigue of the Council of the Kingdoms, relished the so far uneventful trip to Ballinasloe. The River Dancer truly was a marvel. At night, Burnley steered the barge onto a sandy beach, allowing the horses to be taken off, fed and watered, and then set loose to wander in a glade or in a temporary stall the sailors built in a matter of minutes. Then in the morning, with the sun barely in the sky, they would head back onto the river. Nevertheless, worry continued to plague the King of Fal Carrach. As each day passed his sense of foreboding only increased, yet he couldn’t determine the cause, and his mood had infected Kael and his soldiers, all of whom peered regularly at the passing shore expecting trouble to appear at any moment.

  Perhaps it was their location. They had made good progress, reaching a point in the river where they were only a few leagues from the southern border of the Clanwar Desert. As the River Dancer skimmed through the water, the river itself had tightened and would remain something more akin to a narrow canal for many leagues. At certain points the barge, which since leaving Eamhain Mhacha had enjoyed as much as a half-mile if not more to either shoreline when running through the middle of the river, would no longer have that luxury. The River Dancer would need to slow and make its way carefully as the shore at some places ahead would be no more than five to ten feet clear on either side.

  Gregory scanned the western bank once again. Off in the distance through the trees he thought that he could see the beginnings of the Clanwar Desert, massive sand dunes rising hundreds of feet toward the sky. It was a harsh and dangerous land. As a result, the Desert Clans were not always the most reasonable of p
eople. But the inhabitants of the desert had little interest in the river traffic. No, Gregory’s primary concern remained Rodric and the King of Dunmoor, since they now traveled through Loris’ Kingdom as they made their way back to Fal Carrach.

  He feared that his worry was about to become reality as Burnley trotted toward him with a frown. He held out a spyglass which Gregory grasped quickly.

  “To the southwest, my lord,” said Burnley. “A large group of riders, at least a few hundred, all dressed in black. No marks, no insignia, no flags.”

  Gregory raised the spyglass to his eye. Burnley was right. Though still more than a league or more off, he watched the several hundred black-clad men, which at this distance appeared more like a smudge than individual figures, gallop toward the river.

  “Can we outrun them on the river?”

  “No, my lord,” replied Burnley. “Not here. The shorelines are too close, and we’ll need to slow to manage the bends without running aground. If they’re after you, I’d guess we have no more than an hour, maybe less, before they’re on us. And there’s more, King Gregory. Take a look at the leader. Haven’t seen one of these since my time in the service.”

  Gregory raised the spyglass to his eye again, scanning the group once more. They were easier for Gregory to pick out as they galloped closer. The men rode stiffly in almost perfect alignment, as if their decisions and actions weren’t their own, reminding him of the skirmish on Dinnegan’s estate. Their unnatural precision suggested that they were puppets rather than men. Then he found the cause and confirmation for his suspicions.

  “Kael!”

  Kael Bellilil, Swordmaster of Ballinasloe, loped down the deck. Taking the spyglass Gregory handed him and looking in the pointed direction, he cursed in disgust.

  “A Shade,” he said simply. The black-robed creature with the milky white eyes riding at the head of the approaching soldiers was unmistakable.

  Kael’s thoughts immediately turned to the next step, already understanding that on this part of the river remaining on the barge with the Shade and his bewitched men fast approaching was a death wish. He shifted his gaze farther down the northern shore of the river but found nothing that he liked. This close to the Clanwar Desert the forest was gone, replaced by a dusty plain that led to the very edge of the sand dunes. Although the river would offer some defense from the Shade and its men, it would only be for a short time because of its narrowness. The outnumbered Fal Carrachians would have no good options for defending themselves once the dark creature made its way across the river with its troop of soldiers. The Swordmaster turned his attention to the southern shore, scanning his surroundings until he found what he wanted.

  “There, my lord,” said Kael, handing the spyglass back to Gregory and pointing to the southeast.

  “A good spot,” said Gregory, giving the spyglass back to Burnley. “Can you beach us as close to that as possible?”

  Burnley looked through the spyglass, estimating that the small knoll was about a league from the river. His soldier’s eye recognized it immediately as defensible, at least for a time.

  “Yes, within a mile or so. Get your men ready.”

  Kael strode off barking orders, his men responding instantly to his commands while Gregory went off to find Kaylie.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  Attempted Escape

  Burnley cursed in disgust, whipping back around and pulling the spyglass from his eye.

  “They’re coming fast, my lord. No more than a couple miles behind us now. We need to do this as fast as we can.”

  “We’ll be ready,” replied Gregory.

  Gregory and his men could sit their horses four across on the barge. All the Fal Carrachian soldiers were prepared for what was to come next. Horsemen good with bows and crossbows had found places in the back of the barge so that they would be the last off the craft. Kaylie sat her horse next to her father. Gregory had made it clear that she was to stay next to him no matter what as they made their escape. Kael would lead the rear guard.

  “Remember, my lord. As soon as we feel the first touch of sand under our keel, we’ll drop the ramp. Then off you go as if you’re charging into the Dark Horde itself. We’ll raise the ramp and hopefully get back into the river before those black devils reach us.”

  “I expect they’ll stay focused on us,” said Kael. “But we’ll do what we can to keep them off you if any try for your barge. Just make sure that if you get away you remember us when you find a place to land. We’ll fight as long as we can, but how long we can hold is anyone’s guess.”

  “On my honor,” replied Burnley, the old soldier finding himself again.

  “That’s good enough for me,” said the grim-faced Swordmaster.

  Kael began repeating the commands he’d already given multiple times to the men lined up behind him, the soldiers nodding their understanding, unwilling to risk the wrath of the Highlander.

  “Get ready, King Gregory!”

  Burnley stood at the front of the river barge, hand on the lever holding the ramp in place. He stared into the river as they skimmed toward the southern shore. He saw the sand passing swiftly beneath him now, rising closer and closer to the hull. At the first touch of resistance between sand and keel, Burnley slammed down on the lever and the front ramp of the barge dropped down into the shallow water.

  “Out! Out! Ride, you bastards!”

  Gregory, Kaylie and the first few lines of soldiers leapt off the barge, galloping through the shallow water and onto the shore. The remaining lines of soldiers followed after, Kael turning his horse and taking with him the six men at the back of the troop to serve as a rear guard.

  Kael was impressed that Burnley had already extricated his barge from the sandbar and was on his way once more, the River Dancer gliding around the twists and turns of the Corazon River. It looked like the former soldier would get away cleanly, as the black-clad riders showed no interest whatsoever in the barge. Less than a quarter mile away, the Shade and its troop bore down on Kael and his men.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

  A Drink

  Burnley had done a better job than hoped for in picking his spot to land. In just a few minutes the Fal Carrachians reached the knoll, which appeared steeper than expected as they approached. It rose one hundred feet into the air, the beginning an easy, gentle slope, yet the climb became much more difficult as its incline steepened toward the summit. Gregory urged his men up, his daughter staying right next to him as instructed. As they neared the summit, several of the soldiers had to drop from their saddles and lead their horses by the reins because of the difficulty of the slope.

  Reaching the top, Gregory examined his surroundings, pleased that Kael had selected this location for their defense. Some long-forgotten people had lived here at some time in the past, the remains of stone walls and huts standing atop the hillock. Even better, a stone ring wall that reached to his waist ran the length of the crest. Though the wall had collapsed in places, it would serve as an excellent defensive fortification. He immediately put his men to work, ordering them to pull as many stones as possible from the huts and interior walls to fill the gaps in the ring wall and raise it where possible.

  Kaylie and a few soldiers took charge of the horses, finding space in the center of the summit to create a makeshift line to hobble them. When she finished her task, she came to stand by her father. Gregory continued to bellow orders to his men as they began work on strengthening their fortifications, but the skirmish below them drew the bulk of his attention.

  Kael and his men had done an excellent job. Although heavily outnumbered, the archers and crossbowmen had stopped the charge of the black-clad men, which clearly angered the Shade. Each arrow or bolt a Fal Carrachian soldier released took one of the attacking black-clad men off his horse. As a result, even the Shade struggled to maintain control of his pawns in the confusion that followed. After every volley, Kael had his men trot back closer to the hillock, slowly but surely, until the Fal Carrachian rear guard
was almost to the base of the knoll.

  “Archers to the wall!” yelled Gregory.

  Instantly a dozen soldiers ran up to the ring of stones, bows out, arrows placed point first into the soft ground so that they could be drawn as quickly as possible.

  As if sensing that Gregory was ready, after the next volley, Kael turned his men away from the Shade and its soldiers, yelling at them to gallop for the top of the hillock. They were more than happy to do so. The Shade, sensing an opportunity, drove his men forward, seeking to prevent Kael and his soldiers from disengaging. But Gregory was ready.

  “Archers, release!”

  A cloud of arrows flew into the sky, raining down into the black-clad men chasing Kael and his soldiers.

  “Archers, release!”

  Another swarm of arrows fell from the sky into the Shade’s lackeys, and then another, and another. The aerial assault quickly halted the Shade’s attack, as Kael and his men reached the hillock’s summit, their horses leaping the ring wall.

  Thanks to Gregory’s quick thinking, all the soldiers gained the safety of the tor. Except for one. A young man lay at the bottom of the hillock dazed, his horse stepping wrong and rearing, then throwing the Fal Carrachian soldier from his saddle. Kael, having dropped down from his horse, tried to vault the ring wall to go to the soldier’s aid, but Gregory placed a strong hand on his shoulder and held him back. It was too late. Despite several archers desperately trying to keep their attackers from their friend, the Shade swept in on his horse, unconcerned by the falling arrows. Reaching down the servant of the Shadow Lord grabbed the soldier by the back of his shirt and dragged him out of range of the Fal Carrachian bows.