Seeds of Rebellion
Page 37
“I was worried,” Aram panted. “I couldn’t see your light. I feared the faulty barrel had overcome you.”
A roiling surge of salt water sloshed against them. Jason staggered. The rising tide had already overtaken this pool.
“It was a close call,” Jason admitted. “You should ask for a refund.”
“I felt a crack. The air must have leaked out. You lost your light?”
“A fish stole it.”
Aram blinked. “Hard to plan for everything. You all right?”
Water gushed around them, foaming over the tideland.
“I’m peachy. Let’s do it again.”
“We should hurry. The floodplain grows treacherous at night.”
They jogged diagonally across the tideland, simultaneously heading away from Ithilum and the ocean. The turbulent water occasionally surged as high as Jason’s waist and alternated between pushing and pulling. Once, Jason stepped inadvertently into a concealed tide well. Aram immediately hauled him up.
Before long they left the chaotic seawater behind.
“This fog is our best stroke of luck so far,” Aram said as they trotted over solid rock, sandals squelching, wet clothes flapping heavily. Already the fog had reduced visibility to less than twenty yards.
Past the outlying tidal pools the ground began to rise. The rocky plain gave way to a brushy hillside. Jason followed Aram up the long slope. Scrub oak became plentiful on the far side of the hill. Aram forced a winding path through the gnarled vegetation.
On occasion Aram paused, eyes closed, listening.
Beyond the hill, Aram rushed along a stream up a narrow ravine. Jason had to run at almost a full sprint to keep up. The exertion helped combat the chill of his wet clothes.
Veering away from the stream, Aram clambered up the wall of the ravine. At the top he lay prostrate for a moment, staring back the way they had come.
“You holding up?”
Panting and shivering, Jason nodded.
“I think we got away clean,” Aram whispered. Jason noticed that the big man was not winded. “We’re almost to the horses. A fellow called Chancy will be meeting us. He’s reliable, but with a lurker in the mix, we should stay ready for anything.”
Aram led the way over a rotting fence into an overgrown orchard. The fruit trees remained in orderly lines. Tall weeds and wild shrubs clogged the ground.
At the far side of the orchard, beside a splintery fence, Aram knelt to examine an abandoned farmyard through the mist. Part of the old farmhouse had collapsed. A broken wheelbarrow lay in the middle of the yard, netted with cobwebs. Atop the decrepit barn an owl roosted, head swiveling in the misty moonlight.
“Almost too quiet,” Aram murmured. “Wait here.”
In a crouch, the big man dashed into the weedy yard. When he was halfway across, a figure bearing a sword emerged from the barn. Aram skidded to a stop. The figure waved for him to proceed. Aram hurried over and ducked into the decaying structure.
A moment later Aram reappeared, signaling for Jason to join him. Jason crossed the foggy yard, stumbling over a discarded plank hidden in the weeds before entering the barn.
Chancy stood off to one side, a nondescript man of medium height and build wearing a woolen hat with earflaps. He had sheathed his sword and now fidgeted with a short length of luminous seaweed. Aram had stripped off his shirt. His Herculean torso bulged gratuitously. Jason saw fresh clothes draped over a moldering stall, and began kicking off his sandals.
“The decoys you hired performed well,” Chancy whispered to Aram. “Having that little vessel steal away from the docks was a stroke of genius. It created quite a stir. I could see the commotion from well outside of town.”
“How are the roads?” Aram asked.
“Untreadable.”
“That bad?”
“I did some investigating. Many eyes watch the ways out of Ithilum. I’ve been jumping at shadows all evening. How’d you escape?”
Aram pulled on a long shirt scaled with iron rings. “Trade secret.”
“Wet as you are, wouldn’t be too hard to guess. Not that it’s any of my concern.” Chancy shifted his attention to Jason. “How are you?”
“Alive.” He buttoned his dry trousers. “Thanks for bringing our gear.”
Chancy made an indifferent gesture. “When I get paid, I do my part.”
Aram hefted an enormous broadsword. From the tip of the blade to the end of the pommel, the weapon was almost as tall as Jason. The wide, double-edged blade looked heavy enough to chop down a tree. In the feeble cyan glow provided by the seaweed, Aram gazed lovingly at the weapon.
“That’s quite a sword,” Jason said.
Aram smiled in agreement. “I commissioned it from a master blacksmith. The hilt is inlaid with mother-of-pearl and embellished with diamond dust. The pommel is an opal from the isle of Teber. The blade weighs enough to wield it as a mace, but I keep it sharp enough to shave whiskers.” Aram swished the blade through the air a few times, swinging the heavy broadsword as though it were a yardstick. He sheathed it and then slung a baldric over one shoulder, so the sword hung across his broad back, then wrapped a hooded leather cloak around himself. The voluminous garment hung to his knees.
Chancy led a pair of horses from shadowed stalls. One was a tremendous brown stallion with a coarse mane and hairy fetlocks. Beside Aram, it seemed not much more than a pony. A smaller chestnut mare stood ready for Jason, his backpack attached to the saddle.
As Jason prepared to mount, Aram placed a hand on his shoulder. “You should also carry a sword.”
Jason hesitantly accepted a belt and scabbard. He began looping it over his shoulder as Aram had done.
Chancy smirked. “That one fits better around the waist.”
Chagrined, Jason fastened the belt the way Chancy had suggested. “I don’t know how to use a sword,” he admitted.
Aram folded his arms. “It isn’t too complicated. Insert the blade into the body of your enemy.”
“Makes sense.” Jason drew the sword. It felt good in his hand, heavy enough to inflict damage, but not cumbersome.
“You can hack your way in with the edge or stab with the tip. We can go over some finer points later. Don’t go trying to slice up any lurkers yet.”
“Okay.”
Aram patted Jason on the arm, motioning toward the horse.
Jason sheathed the sword. “Won’t the soldiers I face have a lot of training?”
Aram shrugged. “If you have to use that sword tonight, most likely we’re both finished. But it beats confronting your opponents unarmed. If it comes to it, I plan to go down fighting.”
A roiling surge of salt water sloshed against them. Jason staggered. The rising tide had already overtaken this pool.
“It was a close call,” Jason admitted. “You should ask for a refund.”
“I felt a crack. The air must have leaked out. You lost your light?”
“A fish stole it.”
Aram blinked. “Hard to plan for everything. You all right?”
Water gushed around them, foaming over the tideland.
“I’m peachy. Let’s do it again.”
“We should hurry. The floodplain grows treacherous at night.”
They jogged diagonally across the tideland, simultaneously heading away from Ithilum and the ocean. The turbulent water occasionally surged as high as Jason’s waist and alternated between pushing and pulling. Once, Jason stepped inadvertently into a concealed tide well. Aram immediately hauled him up.
Before long they left the chaotic seawater behind.
“This fog is our best stroke of luck so far,” Aram said as they trotted over solid rock, sandals squelching, wet clothes flapping heavily. Already the fog had reduced visibility to less than twenty yards.
Past the outlying tidal pools the ground began to rise. The rocky plain gave way to a brushy hillside. Jason followed Aram up the long slope. Scrub oak became plentiful on the far side of the hill. Aram forced a winding path through the gnarled vegetation.
On occasion Aram paused, eyes closed, listening.
Beyond the hill, Aram rushed along a stream up a narrow ravine. Jason had to run at almost a full sprint to keep up. The exertion helped combat the chill of his wet clothes.
Veering away from the stream, Aram clambered up the wall of the ravine. At the top he lay prostrate for a moment, staring back the way they had come.
“You holding up?”
Panting and shivering, Jason nodded.
“I think we got away clean,” Aram whispered. Jason noticed that the big man was not winded. “We’re almost to the horses. A fellow called Chancy will be meeting us. He’s reliable, but with a lurker in the mix, we should stay ready for anything.”
Aram led the way over a rotting fence into an overgrown orchard. The fruit trees remained in orderly lines. Tall weeds and wild shrubs clogged the ground.
At the far side of the orchard, beside a splintery fence, Aram knelt to examine an abandoned farmyard through the mist. Part of the old farmhouse had collapsed. A broken wheelbarrow lay in the middle of the yard, netted with cobwebs. Atop the decrepit barn an owl roosted, head swiveling in the misty moonlight.
“Almost too quiet,” Aram murmured. “Wait here.”
In a crouch, the big man dashed into the weedy yard. When he was halfway across, a figure bearing a sword emerged from the barn. Aram skidded to a stop. The figure waved for him to proceed. Aram hurried over and ducked into the decaying structure.
A moment later Aram reappeared, signaling for Jason to join him. Jason crossed the foggy yard, stumbling over a discarded plank hidden in the weeds before entering the barn.
Chancy stood off to one side, a nondescript man of medium height and build wearing a woolen hat with earflaps. He had sheathed his sword and now fidgeted with a short length of luminous seaweed. Aram had stripped off his shirt. His Herculean torso bulged gratuitously. Jason saw fresh clothes draped over a moldering stall, and began kicking off his sandals.
“The decoys you hired performed well,” Chancy whispered to Aram. “Having that little vessel steal away from the docks was a stroke of genius. It created quite a stir. I could see the commotion from well outside of town.”
“How are the roads?” Aram asked.
“Untreadable.”
“That bad?”
“I did some investigating. Many eyes watch the ways out of Ithilum. I’ve been jumping at shadows all evening. How’d you escape?”
Aram pulled on a long shirt scaled with iron rings. “Trade secret.”
“Wet as you are, wouldn’t be too hard to guess. Not that it’s any of my concern.” Chancy shifted his attention to Jason. “How are you?”
“Alive.” He buttoned his dry trousers. “Thanks for bringing our gear.”
Chancy made an indifferent gesture. “When I get paid, I do my part.”
Aram hefted an enormous broadsword. From the tip of the blade to the end of the pommel, the weapon was almost as tall as Jason. The wide, double-edged blade looked heavy enough to chop down a tree. In the feeble cyan glow provided by the seaweed, Aram gazed lovingly at the weapon.
“That’s quite a sword,” Jason said.
Aram smiled in agreement. “I commissioned it from a master blacksmith. The hilt is inlaid with mother-of-pearl and embellished with diamond dust. The pommel is an opal from the isle of Teber. The blade weighs enough to wield it as a mace, but I keep it sharp enough to shave whiskers.” Aram swished the blade through the air a few times, swinging the heavy broadsword as though it were a yardstick. He sheathed it and then slung a baldric over one shoulder, so the sword hung across his broad back, then wrapped a hooded leather cloak around himself. The voluminous garment hung to his knees.
Chancy led a pair of horses from shadowed stalls. One was a tremendous brown stallion with a coarse mane and hairy fetlocks. Beside Aram, it seemed not much more than a pony. A smaller chestnut mare stood ready for Jason, his backpack attached to the saddle.
As Jason prepared to mount, Aram placed a hand on his shoulder. “You should also carry a sword.”
Jason hesitantly accepted a belt and scabbard. He began looping it over his shoulder as Aram had done.
Chancy smirked. “That one fits better around the waist.”
Chagrined, Jason fastened the belt the way Chancy had suggested. “I don’t know how to use a sword,” he admitted.
Aram folded his arms. “It isn’t too complicated. Insert the blade into the body of your enemy.”
“Makes sense.” Jason drew the sword. It felt good in his hand, heavy enough to inflict damage, but not cumbersome.
“You can hack your way in with the edge or stab with the tip. We can go over some finer points later. Don’t go trying to slice up any lurkers yet.”
“Okay.”
Aram patted Jason on the arm, motioning toward the horse.
Jason sheathed the sword. “Won’t the soldiers I face have a lot of training?”
Aram shrugged. “If you have to use that sword tonight, most likely we’re both finished. But it beats confronting your opponents unarmed. If it comes to it, I plan to go down fighting.”
