The Unsound Prince Page 5

  FOUR

  “The Legatus will want to hear about this,” said Senovila, looking off into space. “He needs all the information he can get. War is a game of strategy on a grand scale, and one little detail can make all the difference!”

  Senovila sounded worried, and Mudge wondered why.

  “I can’t get the Legatus’ attention any time I want to,” said the old smith. “Mostly I leave it to him to contact me. He checks in when it’s been a while, or he’s got new orders for me.

  “You’re going to have to contact him, boy,” said Senovila. He looked straight at Mudge in a way that said they had no other option.

  Mudge felt the ground open under him. He had got a sprite to do the dishes, more or less, and he’d been lucky against one assassin, though he wondered if one of the others hadn’t helped him out. Now they wanted him to send a spirit hawk? The thought of imminent humiliation sent waves of fear through him.

  “Ah, that’s asking a bit much of me, really,” he managed.

  At least I’ve got the courage not to let my friends down, he thought.

  “I’ll make you a staff,” said Senovila helpfully, and hurried off to look for a young sapling. Ochren went with him.

  Mudge wondered gloomily whether a staff might just increase his limited powers a bit.

  “Staff’s an old fakir’s trick,” said Senovila in a whisper. He and Ochren were cutting a staff out of a tough-looking sapling further up the trail.

  “It doesn’t make a bit of difference, but we have to get the boy to try. Ultrich said it might come to this.”

  Ochren nodded thoughtfully. As a Ranger captain he just took orders and gave them to others, but it looked like Senovila’s world was more complicated. It must come from being closer to the Legatus, he thought. It was certainly an interesting life, being in charge of the Legatus’ son.

  Senovila hurried over to one of the packsaddles. He’d finished working the sapling down to the heartwood. Now he dug around in the bag of bits that went with the axles for the cart, and came up with some flat straps of metal.

  “These should do nicely,” he said to Ochren. Then he lifted out a small, round-headed hammer. Ochren set to work slimming down the wooden ends to take the metal sleeves.

  Mudge thanked them solemnly when they presented the staff to him. Inwardly he didn’t think it would help much. Still, he should respect their efforts.

  He motioned for the two of them to follow, and climbed a small promontory on the ridge. He wanted as few people around as possible when he failed at the task.

  When they arrived at the rocky top of the promontory, he turned in the direction of Karnassus. The Legatus was most likely to be in the Golden Palace, in the heart of the great city. It would make things easier if he could sense his father’s presence before trying to make contact.

  He took a deep breath. The staff felt heavy and reassuring in his hands. He closed his eyes and concentrated. There was nothing. He tried again. This time he thought he registered a faint scent at the edge of his senses.

  It reminded him, perhaps, of the astringency in the air after a lightning strike. It was silly to say spirit power had an earthly smell, but he always thought of it as being like lightning and cinnamon.

  There were other barely distinguishable smells, all at the very edge of his senses. Each one denoted a power of some description. He thought one of them was Shyleen. Another had no smell at all, but he knew it was there, and he knew it was Arnima.

  Mudge concentrated on a growing smell of lightning and cinnamon. This was his father, or at least a concentration of spirit walkers close to his father. He might even have stumbled on the inner sanctum of the Priatic Order of Mysteries, not far from the Golden Palace.

  Whoever it was, they would have to mark the receiving end of the message. Opening a spirit trail, and sending a spirit hawk along it, took a lot less energy when there was a clear destination. From the vantage point of the ridge, if he gave it everything he had, they might just be able to detect him.

  He took a firm grip on the staff, and ‘knocked’ as hard as he could at the awareness he had sensed in Karnassus.

  A window blinked opened in the air in front of him. Mudge stepped back, startled. This wasn't how spirit walkers were supposed to send spirit hawks.

  On the other side of the window his father appeared, bent almost double. He slowly straightened up. His hands were over his ears, and there was a look of pain on his face. Ultrich blinked several times, and then focused on the window in front of him. He recognised Mudge.

  "Hell’s teeth, Rossi," he grunted. "We’re not on the other side of the Galleon Straits!"

  The Legatus looked around, and spoke quickly to someone Mudge couldn’t see. Then he turned back to his son.

  "One of my army commanders is flat on his back with blood pouring out of his nose," he said grimly, "and one of my city councillors is halfway down a tree in the garden. Thank the gods he went through an open window, and not into a brick wall.”

  He turned away, and spoke again for a moment. Then he turned back to the window.

  "Though it looks like both will live," he said, in a more normal voice.

  Father and son stared at each other through a portal that made nothing of the hundreds of leagues between them. Ultrich examined the edges of the roughly-shaped opening, hanging in the middle of the room. He sniffed at it tentatively, recognising something unique in the power that sustained it.

  "A spirit hawk would have done," he said, making light of the situation.

  Mudge was still struggling to accept that he’d done this.

  "What do you have to report?" continued Ultrich briskly, businesslike once more.

  Mudge recounted his dream, then at Senovila’s urging detailed their progress through The Wilderness.

  Ultrich listened attentively.

  Mudge finished his report, and asked after his uncle Evant. Then it was time for him to close the window.

  “Do what Senovila tells you,” said Ultrich, in a kindly voice. “He knows what he’s doing.”

  The Legatus paused. “I have every faith in you, son,” he said at last, his voice a little rough. He was clearly unused to giving words of encouragement.

  Mudge let the contact lapse, and the window began to waver, like a picture built of smoke. It floated away on the breeze.

  He sat down on one of the rocks at the top of the promontory, shaken by the strange turn of events. He had never felt such absolute power pour through him. It terrified him.

  “Your family are okay, then,” said Senovila, sitting down next to him. “That’s good to hear.”

  Mudge turned to him.

  “I almost killed two of the Legatus’ staff, and I tore a thumping great hole in the spirit world. What’s good about that!”

  “You’ve just got to learn to control your abilities,” said Senovila evenly, “and, more importantly, you have to learn how to control your emotions. We all go through that particular lesson. I did. The Legatus did. It’s not going to be any different for you.”

  “So what if it all goes wrong while I’m ‘learning’ this stuff,” said Mudge cynically. “What happens when I start killing people by mistake?”

  Mudge was catapulted onto his feet before he realised it. Then he was dangling in the air in an iron grip.

  “You are going to learn discipline,” said Ochren’s bull voice next to his ear in a flat, hard tone of command.

  “Like every warrior going to war, you are going to learn to put yourself second, and your comrades first, until the whole team thinks like one living, breathing organism.

  “Each of us brings different abilities to the team, and you will learn how to temper and control yours. Now stop bellyaching and find something useful to do!”

  He dropped Mudge unceremoniously on the ground and walked away. Senovila helped him to his feet.

  “The Legatus said he had every faith in you, boy,” he growled. “Now act like you believe it!”

  He follow
ed Ochren, leaving Mudge alone in the forest to regain his composure – and then decide whether he was outraged or humbled.

  Senovila and Ochren rejoined the others. Breakfast was nearly over.

  “Finish up and get ready to move out,” Ochren told the travellers curtly. The others started to pack things away. Senovila followed Ochren over to where the horses were tethered.

  “You were hard on the boy,” he said, as he greeted the horses affectionately. He started to feed them some oats.

  “Did I do the wrong thing?” said Ochren, re-distributing the weight on the packsaddles to even them up.

  “No,” said Senovila at last.

  “You are too close to him,” said Ochren. “It’s better if I’m the one that stays on his back. That leaves you free to build him up. Two separate jobs, see?”

  Senovila grunted. He had to admit Ochren was right. Someone had needed to snap Mudge out of it. If Ochren hadn’t done it, he would have.

  “There’s something else,” said Senovila quietly. Ochren looked up.

  “Ultrich didn’t expect the boy to reach this level so early. He thought sending a spirit hawk would have been just within his capabilities. What he did went far beyond that.”

  “It did, didn’t it,” said Ochren with a smile. “I’m glad the little nobblenose is on our side!”

  He thought for a minute. “Probably brought on by the death of his friends. Now he wants to protect what’s left of them, and the power inside him is responding to that need.”

  Senovila looked up. He hadn’t expected the bluff Ranger to think that deeply into the situation.

  “I think you’re right,” he said, looking worried, “but that much power, arcing over half the Karnatic League, will have attracted a lot of attention. It won’t just be from friends.”

  Ochren finished the last packsaddle as he thought about this.

  “You think we’ve drawn the wrong sort of attention to ourselves?” he said.

  Senovila nodded.

  “Xaanian spirit channellers, or maybe the power behind them?”

  Senovila nodded again.

  “What can we do about it?” said Ochren bluntly.

  “Leave that to me,” said Senovila. “I’ll talk to the boy, but you and your team can be on guard against more mortal threats. Best you be prepared to get us out of sight and hunkered down at a moment’s notice.”

  Ochren nodded gravely.

  “It has begun,” said the head Ranger heavily. “I’d hoped we could at least get to Tashigot Keep without trouble.”

  Senovila slapped him on the back. “Apparently not, my friend,” he said. Then he smiled. “I thought trouble was your middle name.”

  Ochren smiled back. “And it is, you old war dog. You can bet it is!”

  Still, getting to the keep was going to be a problem. It was on the other side of the Scaffold Mountains, at the Beltainia end of them. There was no obvious pass cutting through to it, but it was the most direct route to Xianak. They would just have to find a way through the mountains when it was time.

  The rest of the morning passed uneventfully. Mudge kept to himself, and Senovila thought that was probably best. Colma and Bear kept Mudge company when they could, though it was mostly silence. Even Shyleen walked with him for a while when she got back from scouting ahead.

  They put a good stretch of The Wilderness behind them during the morning. Ochren wasn't entirely happy with the northerly valley they were in. He wanted to veer a little more east, make a more direct line for The Gap, but the going was easier along a rough track that followed the valley floor.

  The group halted a little before midday. Bear started examining a cut above one of the horse's hooves, then Shyleen came running through the trees faster than Mudge would have thought possible.

  She cleared a fallen log like a deer in flight, and rattled off something to Ochren as she arrived. She pointed urgently, sending the rest of them under nearby trees as fast as they could. They scrambled for cover, leading the horses as they went.

  Mudge could feel something with his spirit senses now, an animalistic seeking of prey that soared above them. It had a deep hunger for the kill. He knew the creature was after them.

  It was unlikely Shyleen had used her spirit senses to detect this one. She had probably seen it clear a ridge ahead of them, and had time to get back. He was aware of how lucky they'd been.

  Mudge wondered what he should do. He was terrified anything he tried would give their location away, but then the carnal hunger above them grew stronger, and he knew he had to do something.

  He cast a spirit veil, keeping it small. He was gratified to see a faint blue shield form overhead. The next step was to refine it. He softened the edges, and blended it into the forest world about them.

  They heard a long, rippling crack as air bent over enormous wings. Mudge felt the awareness above them flare into a killing frenzy. For a moment he thought his spirit veil had been too late, then the creature above them seemed to lose direction, and he felt its disappointment. There was the vast thump of a wingbeat, and the creature receded, following the valley to the south.

  Mudge kept the spirit veil solidly in place. He discovered he was shaking. The airborne hunter had come painfully close to killing them all. He loosened off the spirit veil a little, and tried to relax.

  Senovila had been right, it was his emotions that were his greatest enemy. The old smith had given him good advice, but the rest of it was up to him. He had a lot of work to do.

  Senovila patted him on the shoulder. “I take it that was some of your work, boy,” he said, smiling. “Got to tell you we’re all mighty grateful for that.”

  Mudge looked up, and acknowledged the praise. Then Shyleen gave the all clear. Senovila took a couple of paces and stopped, then turned back.

  “The Legatus couldn’t have done better,” he said, with a wink, and hurried to the horses. Mudge wasn’t sure he wanted to hear that.

  The little party was more than half way through The Wilderness now. That meant The Gap had to be a bit more than a day away. It would be time to assemble Senovila’s cart when they got down on the flats.

  Once they found the flats it wouldn’t be long before they came across the Great Trade Route, and headed east until they found Attica. The crossroads town lay in the first of the Scion Kingdoms. They would stock up there for the next leg of the journey, the leg into Xaan.

  They made good time for the rest of the day, but it was only when they were holed up in another cave for the night that they breathed a collective sigh of relief. There had been no further signs of the flying creature.

  That night Mudge had a new dream, and it had nothing to do with the evil rising in Xaan. He noted that his dreams were infused with a growing sense of power, a power that seemed to have its source inside him. He had more control now, and sometimes they let him go where he wanted.

  This time he was somewhere above The Wilderness, trying to track the creature that had hunted them during the day. Was it still close by, looking for them? Was it resting somewhere for the night?

  He thought he detected a trace of it. A tiny sign from something that seemed out of place in the forest, but it faded, and was gone.

  Then Jago and Luce were beside him.

  They seemed joyous, happy, in the way of old friends who were reuniting. They urged him on, helping him in his search for the creature. He found another faint trace, this time emanating from a rocky crag on one of the highest ridges. In his dream he used his farsight to home in on it.

  Bathed in the dim light of a half moon, something littered the rocks. It looked like the remains of goats, or mountain sheep, or the great Ibex of the tall crags. Several animals, at least, had been ripped apart in this place in the last day or so. The creature’s presence lingered, but the area was not bedevilled by it at the moment.

  Mudge felt a sense of relief. There were no traces of it elsewhere in The Wilderness either, and that was good. It unsettled him how fast it had appeared aft
er he’d opened a tear in the spirit world. There had to be a connection, but that fact didn’t seem to bother Jago or Luce.

  Then the high crags and bloody remains receded, and he found himself over more familiar terrain. He saw the place where he was sleeping with the others, and wondered if he would be able to see Bear or Shyleen on watch.

  Then Luce took his hand, and he smiled. She hugged him, and took a favourite scarf from around her neck. She tied it around his shoulders, and Jago thumped him on the arm, then hugged him in turn. His eyes shone with joy at their meeting.

  Mudge was filled with a great happiness. He found himself sinking lower, returning to the cave. He looked up a last time and waved. The next thing he knew a heavy boot was rolling him over on his back, and Senovila was shaking him.

  “We’re damn near ready to go, boy. Have you been up all night dancing with sprites? You’re like someone dead.”

  Mudge roused himself groggily. He knew he’d been dreaming again, but he had no idea for how long. Then he remembered what the dream had been about. Luce and Jago were still alive! Maybe it was just as ghosts, but they were still here, in this world, and they had helped him in his dream.

  He sat up, and something caught round his neck. He looked down, and saw Luce’s scarf. He sat motionless for a long moment, then he lifted up one tail of the yellow material to examine it. This was getting altogether too damn strange.

  He took the scarf off. It was real enough, one that Luce had worn often. A simple rectangle of yellow cloth edged in blue. It was folded along one of the long diagonals, giving two tails that used to fall in random places round her shoulders.

  Turning a thought form into a scarf was unheard of among spirit walkers. Maybe it was easier for the dead, maybe it was something he had done. Perhaps it was just part of the bodily form someone got if they elected to stay behind in the world for a while.

  It was too hard to think about. Mudge stuffed the scarf into a pocket, then hurried to get something to eat. Ochren was almost ready to lead the group up the next ridge, and into their last day in The Wilderness.