The Unsound Prince Page 7

  Though the music was faint, he reasoned it was coming from somewhere further on and deeper in. That encouraged him to continue pushing through the dense growth. As he did so, the sound of the music slowly increased. Still, it was hard work, and it wasn't long before he stopped for a rest.

  While he stood, breathing heavily, he noticed the greenery had a life of its own. It was swaying from side to side. A faster rhythm entered the harmonies of the music, and the leaves shivered appreciatively.

  Mudge turned side on, and went back to forcing his shoulder through the greenery as best he could. He seemed to be making better progress. A bush moved out of his way, and for a moment there was a small, open space. He stepped into it, and looked around.

  The plant life was moving somehow, following some intricate dance of its own. By timing his steps he was able to connect the occasional open spaces, and move faster. He pushed on, and noticed more changes.

  For one thing the open spaces became more common, and when he looked up there was now a deep purple and red, almost black, sky above him. There was a scattering of stars in it. They were unnaturally bright, and there were very few of them. Mudge felt a strange newness to it all. He wondered if he was at the birth of the world.

  The ground took on a variable consistency. At times he seemed to be wading through it, at others he was floating above it. The last was a most unnerving sensation, and it was becoming harder to avoid the trees that now moved around him with a life of their own.

  It seemed the trees were lost in the complicated movements of the Great Dance, the music of life that pulsed everywhere in the Mesoan homeland. A substantial boulder floated past. Mudge had to resist a boyish urge to climb on board and see where it took him.

  He decided he’d come far enough. He was here to contact the strange inhabitants of this place, not wander about aimlessly. His voice, when he called out, sounded discordant. It jarred with the rich harmonies of the music. He persisted for a while, but there was no reply.

  It was becoming difficult to stay upright on the moving ground, as well as avoid the trees. He managed to extend his spirit senses into his surroundings, but he couldn’t detect the familiar smell of lightning, or cinnamon, that indicated a spirit presence.

  He detected nothing that was familiar to him. That, more than anything else, drove home the fact he was no longer in his own world.

  Driven by increasing desperation, Mudge tried to impose a little order on the whirling energy around him. He sensed a resistance to what he was trying to do, but he continued to imagine an orderly world, a place where the ground stayed level, and things didn't go whirling about.

  There was a momentary shock wave, an upheaval that threw him off his feet. When he pushed himself upright again, the world had returned to normal. Normal for him, that is, with level ground, and trees that stayed in one place. Probably not normal for the Mesoans, though.

  Mudge found himself in an open glade, and he waited nervously to see what would happen next. It didn't take long for something to come looking for him. The space about him began to fill with wisps of light.

  Mudge tried talking to one, but there was no response. Then one of the floating wisps came closer. A tendril of mist reached out and touched him on the arm. The tenuous column in front of him coalesced into a solid form. Mudge found himself looking at a perfect copy of himself.

  Another one touched the first, and began to coalesce. Others joined in. The effect spread, like ripples spreading in a pond. Mudge found himself surrounded by dozens of copies of himself.

  The one closest to him looked up and smiled, if a little uncertainly. It seemed to be having trouble with the mechanics of Mudge’s body.

  "How did you create this clearing?" it asked.

  "Nothing can stop the Great Dance," said another emphatically. Then they were all talking. The first raised a hand, finger extended, and the others fell silent. The double in front of Mudge raised an eyebrow enquiringly.

  "I don't know," said Mudge uncertainly. "It was just too unsettling for me the way it was."

  There was great consternation among Mudge's many replicas. The babble of voices continued until the double in front of Mudge once again raised a finger imperiously.

  "You do not wield such power of your own accord," it said, enigmatically. "It is something from outside of your world, and your time, that permits this."

  It paused, and turned to its fellows. Mudge waited apprehensively while the soft murmur of voices rose and fell around the clearing. The one who had assumed the role of speaker for the others turned back to Mudge.

  "Normally we avoid your people,” it said heavily. Then it stopped to reflect on what it had said. It seemed to reach a decision. “However, you have been sent to us for a reason, even though we dislike any contact with your world.”

  Mudge’s double gestured, and a long bench of rock rose out of the ground and dusted itself off. The double sat, and indicated that Mudge should join it.

  “Tell me what is happening out there, and why you have come to this place,” it said. Mudge thought he detected a certain uneasiness in the way it asked the question.

  He told his double about the power that was rising in Xaan, and the party of travellers from Shaker’s Hope. How they were trying to make their way northward, toward Xaan.

  His double made some sharp comments to the Mesoans behind it, using a language Mudge did not understand. Then it asked him about his relationship with the Legatus, who it seemed to know. Mudge tried to explain his ambivalent ties to the throne. His double seemed to understand.

  It felt like no time at all had passed when it raised its arm abruptly.

  “Enough,” it said.

  It stood up. Mudge followed its lead.

  “We will assist you where we can,” it said, “though existence in your world is very damaging to us.” It paused for a moment.

  “For now I think we will make things a little easier for you and your companions,” it said.

  The trees began to move again. The ground split into several layers, like sheets of paper sliding on top of one another, until Mudge wasn’t sure which one he was on. He stayed where he was, in case he found out he wasn’t on any of them. He began to feel a little seasick.

  The Mesoans became indistinct, and their outlines dissolved into a spreading mist. On a whim Mudge reached out a hand and touched one as they began to drift away from him. There was a momentary sensation of coolness, then a wall of vegetation rolled over him from behind.

  His recollections of the next minute or two were a blur. He remembered odd, distorted images, and bumping along in some direction. He was suspended between an entire forest that was passing over him, and a ground that had a somewhat cloudy consistency. Then the Mesoan homeland was gone.

  Mudge found his feet, and swayed dizzily. As his insides settled he lifted his head, and found he was back on the trail, while the imposing wall of vibrant green was receding into the distance. Mudge’s world appeared out of the receding greenery as if they both occupied the same space, but in different ways.

  He stood up, and wondered where he was. He hallooed loudly, but there was no answer. Then he remembered the metal ball he’d been given, and dug it out of his pocket. It appeared undamaged by his time in the dense undergrowth, and he blew a long blast. He heard a faint answer from further up the valley.

  Mudge worked his way up the trail, in the direction of the voice. More answering whistle blasts guided him. It wasn’t long before Bear’s voice was close by, and then he could see the two Rangers waiting for him.

  Ochren and Bear came running toward him, clearly pleased to see he was still alive.

  “What did you do?” said Bear excitedly. “The whole forest just up and moved! It was incredible, I’ve never seen anything like it. Whatever you said to them, it must have worked!”

  Bear and Ochren half carried Mudge up the path, plying him with questions as they went. Mudge gave some general answers, but didn’t dwell on what had happened. He sudden
ly realised how tired he was. This world might weaken the Mesoans, but living in their world didn’t do him much good either.

  The rest of the travellers were waiting for him at the top of the ridge, and he was touched at their concern. Colma hugged him, and lifted him off the ground, following that by thumping him on the arm. Arnima almost smothered him in her ample bosom. Then Senovila was pumping his hand and clapping him on the back.

  “Well done, boy. Well done indeed! We might be able to make Tashigot Keep in reasonable time now, and we owe it all to you.”

  Mudge downplayed the whole thing, and after a while they stopped asking questions about what had happened. When he’d eaten something, and had a long drink from the water supplies, Mudge began to feel better.

  Once they had reorganised, the travellers set off down the trail. It wasn't long before they found themselves on the valley floor, amid a widening corridor of grassland. This was the first really open land they had seen in The Wilderness. Once they’d finished their midday meal, Senovila insisted on making up his portable cart.

  There was a lot of detailed work needed before everything went together smoothly. It took Senovila most of the afternoon and he had help for most of that time. The tray had to be made from woven lengths of supple branches, and that was the most difficult part.

  Senovila was determined to get some distance behind them before they stopped for the night. At his insistence they climbed gingerly aboard what looked like a rather fragile machine. Happily, it seemed to take the weight. Senovila flicked the reins lightly and the two horses started off at a steady walk. The cart followed, bumping and swaying behind them.

  “Can’t believe it works,” said Bear to Ochren. He got a clip across the back of the head as Senovila turned around with a scowl.

  “It beats walking,” said Shyleen amiably from the back of the cart. She had found enough room to stretch out, and was enjoying the gentle swaying.

  It was a much happier band that camped further along the valley that evening. They should manage a good distance on the following day. If they didn’t run into any problems with the cart, they would make it out of The Wilderness onto the Great Trade Route by midday. From there they should make Attica by nightfall.

  SIX

  They travellers were up at first light the next morning, and finished breakfast quickly. Senovila sent Mudge and Colma out to collect more supple branches to weave into the bed of the cart. Their attempts the previous day had started to sag alarmingly.

  The two of them returned with armfuls of the thin branches. Shyleen, Liam and Mareet left to scout the valley ahead before the others had finished repairing the tray. Bear turned up with a large bush fowl and a clutch of eggs.

  “Lunch,” he said briskly, then wandered over to help Arnima and Senovila. Ochren headed off to fill up the water bags. It was a little after sunrise when the last of the packs were thrown onto the cart.

  With both horses in high spirits, and the floor of the valley getting smoother, they made good time. The travellers took it in turns to walk beside the cart, lessening the load the horses had to pull. The exercise also helped to keep the Rangers in good condition.

  Arnima had toughened up. She was able to push herself along beside the cart when it was her turn to walk. It helped that she could rest an arm on the cart when she got tired. As far as Ochren was concerned, Senovila’s lightweight, portable cart creaked a little too alarmingly, so he walked most of the time.

  “You keep an eye out for that infernal flying thing, boy,” said Senovila. He was voicing the lingering concerns of them all. The fearsome flying creature wasn't an enemy they wished to meet again.

  Mudge was working on it. His spirit senses were unfolding a little more each day, and his confidence was growing. He could see, almost like a map in his mind, that the skies over The Wilderness were clear of threats. No trace remained of the winged creature, whatever it had been.

  Ahead of the cart he thought he could detect Shyleen, Liam and Mareet. They were making their way along the left side of the valley. He sent his mind out further. There was nothing but a handful of smallholdings and subsistence farms ahead. They huddled in the valley just before it opened out onto the Great Trade Route.

  Mudge brought his attention back to his surroundings. He was walking alongside the cart, with Bear next to him. The others were resting on the tray, or up front driving. He felt exhausted for a moment, and leaned on the side of the tray. He was learning just how much energy spirit work took out of him.

  The little group made good progress. They continued to change places on a regular basis. Then, at last, Senovila announced he could see the Great Trade Route ahead.

  A rough hut appeared on their left, then a larger house with outbuildings. Mudge nodded. His spirit sense had picked up the smallholdings correctly.

  Shyleen, Liam and Mareet appeared from one of the houses. They had been quizzing the locals on anything unusual they had seen in the area. Now they fell in beside the cart.

  “Short break,” announced Senovila, as they reached the Trade Route proper. He stopped the cart, and took some feed forward to the horses.

  Mudge noticed again how Ochren left the leadership of the group to the old smith. He had no doubt that would change if the Rangers needed to take charge. All the same, he liked the way there were no set levels of command.

  They all contributed something, and they all seemed to know when to leave the decision to others. It felt good. Better than the rigid command structure his father used to run the League.

  Then he realised he was being unfair. He could understand why a large organisation like the League might need rules, and structure. Mudge wondered how much his thoughts came from the fact his father seemed to have no time for him. It was a challenging idea. He hesitated. Maybe he’d look at it again on another day, but not today.

  After the break, they made good time on the smooth surface of the Great Trade Route. The Legatus had understood early in his career the need for wagons to travel quickly between towns. Otherwise goods spoiled and traders missed the best prices. Every village in the League was taxed a certain number of ‘worker days’ each month to maintain the Trade Routes.

  Villages prospered under the system, and people saw the advantage of keeping the roads in good order. Potholes were filled in with a mixture of stones and clay, and water was carefully channelled away from the road surfaces. Some stretches of road were raised above marshy areas completely. It certainly made for fast travelling.

  The cart left the poorer soils and grazing lands of The Gap, and passed into the richer soils of the Scion Kingdoms. A garrison of the League straddled the road at the transition, and they were pulled over and questioned. The soldiers were quick to let them through once they saw the Ranger attire, and had spoken to Ochren.

  The foothills of the Scaffold Mountains crawled by on their left, while the rich farmland of the plains stretched away to their right. Somewhere out on the plains the Scion Kingdoms came to an end, and the rolling downs of the Marches took over. Until at last they descended gently to cliffs that ran along the edge of the Trading Coast.

  Despite their best efforts Attica had still not appeared by the end of the day. Senovila started to look around for a place to stop for the night. Ochren asked a few questions at one of the farmhouses, and they were directed to a walled compound off the road. It was a sprawling affair on top of a rise, and it dominated the farms below it. Ochren discovered he knew the owner, a retired Ranger named Athren. The travellers were made welcome at the compound, and offered a meal and somewhere to sleep.

  “Old habits die hard,” confided Ochren to Mudge, pointing to the walls and fortifications about the top of the hill. The additions were obviously Ranger work. Then the travellers made the acquaintance of the owner.

  “Good defensive position, see?” he said, and swept his arm across the commanding view. They were quick to agree with him.

  I'm not so sure, thought Mudge. The dark things that were trying to find
them wouldn’t be put off by a ‘good defensive position’. He thought of the winged creature again, and imagined it plucking one of them effortlessly off the hilltop. It would dismember its prey later, in the nearby Scaffold Mountains. The travellers were going to stand out like a beacon here.

  Nightfall followed, and Mudge could hear food being served in the workers’ quarters. He didn’t say anything to Ochren about his concerns, but he added himself to the list for night watch. After that he dumped his gear in one of the bunkhouses, and joined the others to eat.

  Ochren sent Mudge and Liam out on the first watch.

  The two of them were in the central square of the compound when the sentries arrived for the changeover at midnight. Bear was one of the new sentries, but his presence didn't reassure Mudge. An uncomfortable feeling had come over him, and it wouldn’t go away.

  He turned in, but found he couldn’t sleep. He calmed his breathing, and sent his spirit senses out over the farms on the plains. He went as far as the foothills of the mountains, then looped back until he was far out over the Marches.

  He found nothing. No airborne life forms, no strange energy readings, nothing to indicate they were being hunted, or even watched, but something felt terribly wrong.

  Mudge wondered whether Ochren would appreciate him sharing his concerns about something he couldn’t actually detect yet, but he could feel a presence. He was missing something, but what was it? The sensation became unbearable. Devil spawn take me if I’m wrong, he swore impatiently, and hurried outside to see Ochren.

  That simple act saved Bear’s life, and possible the lives of all of them.

  Ochren called out the other Rangers immediately. They rose fully clothed and grabbed their weapons on the run, loosening swords and notching arrows as they came. Mudge and Ochren were looking up into the darkness when Mudge felt something appear above him, something dark and dangerous.

  It was a spirit veil, though it was different to the ones he was familiar with. Moments later he felt it collapse upon itself, and then it was gone. Three of the winged creatures that had tracked them in The Wilderness dropped like stones toward the compound.