Hunting Page 11

  "Here they come," Gibrace said, as a small clump of riders emerged in the distance, tardily followed by the larger assembly. The advance group was moving fast, the Rhoi in lead. His palomino was a match for Heran's.

  Carlyon rode down to meet them and, after the briefest of explanations, the small group broke into two. Ash nodded in approval. Time for more questions later, once the search was underway. The hunt caught up, swirled for a time around the little knot of lead riders, and was swiftly broken into search parties. Soon only five riders remained. The Rhoi, Thornaster, one of the Guard, Hawkmarten and Carlyon. They turned and headed for where Ash and Gibrace waited with Heran's palomino, Carlyon in the lead.

  She studied their faces as they neared. Grim, grim and grim. But not angry. They didn't know, yet.

  "What is it you need to show me, Lauren?" the Rhoi asked as they dismounted. "Ah, Per, you've lamed yourself have you? Damn, I'd never have thought he'd throw Heran. He has the gentlest temperament."

  "It's...his leg, Ser Rhoi," Carlyon said and the three seruilisi waited as the older riders circled the palomino. Ash removed the bloodstained cloth from the animal's side and heard the Guardsman's breath hiss through his teeth.

  "Arrow shot?" the Rhoi said, in complete disbelief. "Arrow shot?! Someone shot Heran?"

  "We're the only ones who've seen that," Carlyon said. He had almost managed to revert to the perfect first seruilis, but there was a blackness to his eyes. "I told them Per had bolted, lamed and scratched himself up, but nothing else."

  "That was well done," Thornaster said, while the Rhoi spent a moment longer staring at the red line on the palomino's coat.

  Carlyon shook his head. "I hadn't even noticed his absence."

  There was anger in the Rhoi's eyes now, but not directed at his seruilis. "Lauren, this falls at the feet of the one who loosed that arrow, not you," he said. "I will not hear you blaming yourself again. Do you understand me?"

  Carlyon nodded.

  "Gibrace, isn't it?" the Rhoi said, looking at the green and russet-clad youth. "I commend Per into your care. Dashelk, go with him back to the palace. See that that wound remains hidden."

  "Yes, Ser Rhoi."

  "Who, other than the seruilisi, was in the tail of the hunt, Lauren?" the Rhoi asked.

  The black-clad youth replied with a half-dozen names.

  "And who among the seruilisi was carrying a bow?"

  Gently said, but Carlyon's face still pinched. "Myself," he replied, quietly. "Lirindar, Marriston, Vicardie, Gibrace, Vendarri."

  "I see. Well, for now the best thing we can do is join the search. Farpatten will assign us a section."

  Ash was assigned a sweep along the southern half of the search area, and rode in as nearly straight a line as possible through the loosely placed trees. The long, flat top of the hill rose toward this southern end, and there was more undergrowth: mostly morrion bushes thick with dagger-like thorns. No wonder Per had been so scratched up.

  Carlyon rode parallel, some fifteen feet to her left, with Hawkmarten the same distance to her right. Ash glanced at them only occasionally, her attention for every shadow and hollow. No sign of a black-clad boy. At last they reached the southern border of the hill. Before her was a vista of green land, dark trees and Montmoth's numerous mountains, but most immediately an unpleasantly long drop. This was no negotiable slope. Falling water muffled the sound of the other riders in the line emerging.

  "At last!" Hawkmarten said, as a shout rose above the noise. "That's not far from us."

  A short enough distance that Ash didn't bother to remount, following Carlyon through the trees to a split in the southern edge of the hill which provided a deep-cut channel for a waterfall.

  The tumble of water to her left descended to a rocky stream at least eighty feet below. The gap wasn't more than ten or fifteen feet across at top. Three men on the opposite side were staring at a ledge nearly thirty feet down an otherwise sheer drop.

  The Veirhoi lay tangled in a largish tree branch, as much off the ledge as on it. As they watched, the breeze blowing along the split gusted a little harder, whipping through the leaves of the fallen branch, and sending it rocking back and forth, perceptibly moving the otherwise motionless boy.

  The Rhoi, emerging from the trees in time to see this, said: "Oh, Astenar, you mock me," in a horrified undertone, just as one of the men on the far side yelled something that sounded like 'hope'.

  "The lad must have come off as his animal avoided plunging into the gap," Hawkmarten said. "He would have grabbed at the branch on the way down and it broke his fall, swung him in to the side."

  "I can't tell if he's breathing," was the Rhoi's distracted reply. "Does anyone have any rope?"

  On a hunting trip? The keepers had less than fifteen feet between them, brought along to tie the carcass. More people arrived, someone suggested vines. The edges of the split became crowded. Heran swayed again.

  Ash studied the crevice wall directly below her. Unlike its fellow opposite, it was rough and had plenty of footholds, though it wasn't the driest prospect she'd ever seen. Her gaze went from a projecting spur of rock to her left, to the kyola tree growing directly out of the rocky side about ten feet down. Source of the Veirhoi's leafy tangle, it looked firmly rooted, and there were other, thicker branches.

  Quietly she removed her tabard, slung it across Cloud Cat's neck, and handed the nearest person the mare's reins. Working through the gathering crowd to the best starting place, she knelt and slipped over the edge before anyone could notice and waste precious time arguing. The Veirhoi had spent...how long on the ledge already? It was obviously not so unstable a position as it looked, but waiting was too much risk.

  Ignoring the exclamations above her, Ash did not allow herself to rush. This was difficult. There should be nothing in her mind, just now, but the slow progress of handhold, foothold, handhold, foothold. Her fingers chilled immediately, and her boots felt huge, even though this would be an easy enough climb in other circumstances. But it was slippery and windy and high. Why did that height make so much difference?

  She reached the spur of rock, maybe twenty feet down, a little above the branch of the tree she had thought most suitable, pointing along the chasm as it did. With unhurried care she reversed herself, facing out over the drop, feet on two different angles, bracing against the surface behind her for a brief rest. Not a good place to jump, but she could hardly do it from the top – that would only break the branch, as had happened with the Veirhoi.

  "Ash!"

  It was Thornaster's voice, so she cautiously tilted her head back, and saw a great many faces peering down at her. Finding the Visel, she gave him an enquiring look. They looked a long way up, distances magnified by a bright sky over the shadow of rock.

  "Can you swim?" the man called, dimly audible.

  "No!" Ash felt her face split into an involuntary grin. "But the fall would kill me, don't you think?" Then she banished him as distracting, studying the branch, which was not as close as she had thought.

  "Ash Cat," she said, softly. "Why are you doing this?"

  If Ash Cat answered, the words were lost in the falls, so she took a deep breath, and leapt.

  ooOoo

  Grabbing the branch wasn't difficult. Ash hadn't expected it to bend so dramatically, though, and, for a terrifying moment, she was convinced the wretched thing was going to break. Then it steadied and she was dangling in the middle of the chasm, breathing the watery mist rising off the falls.

  "You're doing this because you like to show off, aren't you?" she said, waiting for her pulse to steady. "He's not going anywhere. He's been there for a decem. You just had to be the centre of attention."

  To give lie to her words, the wind gusted hard, and the Veirhoi came within a whisker of rolling off the ledge. Ash swayed in the wind, wincing as the branch made a nerve-raking noise. Then, not wasting any more time, she began to swing back and forth, fixing her attention on the ledge. The problem here was judging a feet-first leap e
xactly. Too short and she would have an opportunity to learn to swim, too long and she'd bounce off the cliff-face and be in the same situation, but with a broken nose.

  She swung once more, released her hands, and arced neatly to the ledge, took a tiny, gasping breath, then curled sideways so that she was almost laying on the foot and a half wide shelf.

  Solid. Safe.

  She lifted her head, and for a horrified moment couldn't see the Veirhoi at all, then realised that his black clothing was blending in with the growing afternoon shadow and his blond head was out of sight, hanging over the edge. At least he was on a wider part of the ledge. Quickly she moved forward, pulled him in, and tossed the branch into the darkness below. At first she thought she'd rescued a corpse, his skin was so cold and clammy. But he stirred, and groaned faintly in pain.

  Pulling the boy securely against the cliff-face, she looked up, blinking at the blue, blue sky. It was dark down in this rip in Luin's skin. "He's alive!" she yelled, as loudly as she could manage.

  Ignoring the resulting babble of voices, transmuted by the roar of the falls into something completely incomprehensible, she knelt beside the Veirhoi, testing his body for injury. Lots of scratches, but no arrows, thank Luin and Astenar both, and no wound to the skull, as she'd thought possible. He flinched when she pressed his left side, just about where he'd been hanging over the ledge, but there was little she could do than shift him to a better position for breathing, and check his lips for blood.

  "Broken ribs!" she yelled.

  Several people answered, to her exasperation. She made out a few words, but figured they couldn't be telling her anything interesting. "Anyone got a cloak?" she called, her throat protesting the yelling as she did so. "He's cold as..." She decided not to say 'death'.

  There was a pause, then someone, Vendarri she thought from this difficult angle, pointed to a spot just above her. She cautiously looked directly upwards. A dark shape dropped down, wafting away from the wall, and she had to lean precariously out over nothing to catch it. Not the thickest cloth, but it would have to do. She wrapped it around Heran's upper body, then sat down, holding the boy's head on her lap.

  Feet dangling over the edge, Ash settled in for a wait.

  Chapter Fifteen

  "Am I dead?" asked a faint voice, just as the sky was fading into a strip of grey above them. Sunsets came early in Montmoth's mountains.

  "Would you be in this much pain if you were dead?" Ash asked. "Speaking of which, what, other than that broken rib, hurts most?"

  "Broken rib? Where are we?"

  "Well, if you'd woken earlier, you'd have seen the loud but unimpressive waterfall just behind us. It's really in a bad position for viewing, tucked in a crevice on the flat hill we were crossing. You remember the hill?"

  "Yes. Oh, Luin's Heart, that's right. Per threw me and there was a branch. It must have broken."

  "Well, you landed on a ledge and now we're waiting for someone to show up with some rope." She looked upwards. "I think most of the hunt's been sent home. Either that or they've found something more interesting to stare at. I felt like we were the main exhibit in a menagerie for a while."

  The Veirhoi moved, struggled to sit upright, gasped in pain and subsided.

  "Hurts, doesn't it?" Ash said. "I had cracked ribs once and it was like knives, but with a constant ache thrown in. You wouldn't think cracks would hurt so much, would you?"

  "Is Per all right?" said the Veirhoi, after a moment. "I couldn't stop him, he was going like a bull."

  "He'll recover. Bruised hoof, scratches, no real damage. Do you remember what set him off?" She aimed for a casual tone, but, really, subtleties were lost in the roar of the falls.

  "No. He just ran mad, took off. I was trying to catch up with Lauren, then Per leapt sideways on me and went headlong." The boy sighed. "I thought maybe he'd been bitten by a snake. You're sure he's not badly injured?"

  "Better than you, I think," Ash replied, electing not to worry Heran with talk of arrows. "Can you remember who you were with at the time? Who was behind you?"

  "Behind me? I wasn't looking behind me. Why?" Suspicion in his voice now. "What aren't you telling me?"

  Ash was silent, looking up at the sky, and he shifted irritably on her legs. "Damn it, Lenthard. I'll order you to tell me if I must."

  She laughed. "I'm not all that good at obeying orders, you know," she said. "But, yes, I'll tell you after all. I don't think I'd like to have it kept from me and you'll need to know to be quiet about it." She stroked his brow absently, then recalled herself. The Veirhoi would probably resent such familiarities. "Um. We think Per was shot, that an arrow set him off. So, can you remember who was behind you?"

  "Shot?!" Incredulity, much like his brother's. "He's...!"

  "He'll survive. It was just a graze, though it'll scar. You going to answer my question now?"

  "I don't think there was anyone behind me," Heran said, after a pause. "Not directly. I was following Lauren, but I went around the wrong side of a rock."

  "Can you remember the noise of a follower? The sound of an arrow, maybe?"

  "No." The Veirhoi shivered. "How long have I been down here?"

  "A couple of decems."

  He tried to sit up again, lapsed back with a groan, and passed out. Ash frowned down at him, and explored his skull minutely, wondering if that was a slight swelling behind his left ear. Her mouth was dry and she thought about yelling up for some water or hot food or something. A flask of brandy if they had it: the damp and chill were making her ache. But that would mean standing up and disturbing the unconscious Veirhoi.

  "How did you get down here, Lenthard?"

  "Awake again, are you? I climbed."

  "Truly?"

  "Riding and climbing – it's what I do. My friends call me Ash Cat."

  "You–" The Veirhoi fell silent, perhaps pondering the idea of the gutter seruilis having friends.

  Something fell on her head, and Ash gasped and flinched as it piled on one shoulder then snaked down her back.

  "They finally found some rope," she said, when her heart had started once more. Another fell to her left and this one began to jerk and wriggle. "Someone's coming down."

  "Good. I'm starving."

  She laughed. "Now that's a sign of a healthy constitution. I've been thinking I can smell something cooking, but that could be wishful thinking. Or they might have roasted us some venison. A little food and a good long drink and I think I might enjoy a moonlight ride back. I don't often get to ride under the stars."

  "Oh, Astenar, it's forever back to the palace."

  "About three decems of travel, since we won't be going at a pace worth mentioning, not at night with you in a stretcher."

  Someone reached the ledge. "Hello," Ash said. "He's got one broken rib and a couple cracked, I think. Dark down here, isn't it?"

  There was a pause, then light flared, rather to Ash's surprise. The Rhoi's man, Farpatten, stood looking down at them, an eerie blue glow outlining one hand. Were all Montmoth's mages in the Rhoi's Guard?

  "Now for the fun bit," Ash said. "Being hauled up a cliff-side with broken ribs. I'd pass out now, if I were you."

  The Guardsman knelt awkwardly and checked the Veirhoi over, then produced a small flask.

  "Drink this, Ser Veirhoi."

  The Veirhoi hesitated, then sighed and accepted the liquid poured into his mouth. "I want to talk to you again, Lenthard," he said. "Don't forget."

  "I won't."

  Ash watched as his lids lowered and lifted, lowered and stayed shut. She looked suspiciously at Farpatten: nothing ordinary would have acted so immediately after being swallowed. It must have had some sort of magic-touched ingredient.

  "Hold him upright," the Guardsman said, lifting Heran into a sitting position. Ash steadied him there as the Guardsman looped and knotted a sturdy-looking harness about the boy's upper body, working to create something that would distress the ribs as little as possible.

  The harness completed,
the Guardsman tugged on the first rope three times and steadied the boy's unconscious form as he was pulled upwards, climbing along the other rope as the Veirhoi rose into the air. Ash watched them go, lit only by that bluely glowing hand. She wished she had mage ability. It would be handy to be able to conjure light like that.

  As they rose, Ash began rubbing her calves, then levered herself into a standing position. She was stiff from staying in the same position for so long, but feeling soon returned and she shook off the chill as she waited for the Guardsman's rope to stop moving about. When it did, she started up herself. It was an easy enough climb, since the rope was nice and thick, but she was grateful all the same for Thornaster's hand as she reached the lip.

  Pulled up into a world of light and people and the mouth-watering smell of venison roasting, she was a little inclined to go weak at the knees, but resisted the impulse.

  "Remind me to take something with me to eat next time I decide to show off."

  "If you'd given me a chance to plan your activities," the Visel replied, with a lamentable attempt at sounding stern, "I doubt you would have been allowed to indulge in your craving to be the centre of attention."

  "Oh well," she began, pleased, and was nearly sent back over the cliff when Hawkmarten came up and gave her a congratulatory buffet.

  "Well done, boy. A rare display throughout. If you ever grow tired of Thorn here, there'll always be a place for you at Tye's Haven."

  "Thank you, Ser Setsel," she managed, trying to get her breath back. Then she was surrounded by people congratulating her, until these stepped back for the Rhoi.

  "Young man," he said, beaming. "I owe you a great debt. Name your reward."

  Now why did he have to ask her in front of an audience? She sorted rapidly through her options, contriving to present a little modest confusion to interested eyes.

  "Bigger quarters would be nice, Ser Rhoi," she said, and gave Thornaster an apologetic glance. "I really don't much like sleeping on the floor. If it's not too much trouble, Ser Rhoi."