Red Magic h-3 Page 8

  Dozens of small yellow parrots perched in the giant tree chittered excitedly. When Wynter and Brenna passed through the willow branches and emerged on the other side of the tree, they saw two of the birds sitting on the druid's shoulder. Galvin was several yards ahead, and he appeared to be talking to them. Wynter moved quietly toward the druid, but Brenna kept her distance.

  She stared at Galvin as he chittered back at the birds. Finally curiosity got the better of her, and she took a step forward, her bare foot landing on a sharp rock. "Ouch!" she gasped, balancing herself on her booted foot. Standing on one leg, she pulled the other up in front of her, turning the bottom of her foot up so she could inspect it. Dirt clung to her heel and the ball of her foot, and blood flowed from a gash just behind her toes.

  Some distance ahead, out of hearing distance, the centaur and druid conversed, oblivious to Brenna's discomfort.

  "I don't want to get too close to Thay's border tonight anyway. We should camp a ways back from it," Wynter said. "At least one of the wizards uses patrols of undead."

  Galvin shivered at the thought. "I prefer to deal with living creatures." He nodded in Brenna's direction and added, "But I'm not sure about that one."

  "Good thing she's too far away to hear you," the centaur replied. "She's spunky, though. She'll make it. I just don't think she's used to this much walking. Maybe I should keep an eye on her."

  "Are you coming?" Galvin yelled back to Brenna as the birds flew from his shoulder.

  Brenna wiped the blood from the bottom of her foot with the hem of her dress and limped to catch up. The centaur fell back and matched Brenna's stride. He noticed she paused every few steps. She had pulled up the hem of her skirt and held it in her right hand, leaving her legs exposed from the knees down. It made for faster hiking, but her legs and one bare foot were getting scratched by the weeds and bushes.

  "He's mad at me," she sputtered. "And he's just walking fast to humiliate me." Brenna watched Galvin, noticing that he took long steps and didn't look down at the ground. Chipmunks, rabbits, and other small creatures accepted his presence, not bothering to run at his approach. But when she and the centaur came near the animals, they scattered into the dense foliage. The land reminded her of rain forests she had read about in Aglarond's libraries, and she suspected she would have enjoyed the scenery under different circumstances.

  "If he likes animals so much, why does he have anything to do with the Harpers or anybody else?" She winced as a branch of a thorn bush grazed her calf, leaving a pink welt. Hiking with one booted foot and one bare foot was decidedly awkward. Bending over, she pulled her other boot free and hurried to keep pace with Wynter.

  "The Harpers needed someone with his talents. He's been with them for quite a number of years, helping them with various problems in and around Thesk, Aglarond, Yuirwood, and the coast. He was even involved with the godswar a while ago."

  Brenna lowered her voice so the druid couldn't hear. "What's so special about Galvin that the Harpers wanted him?"

  The centaur frowned. "Remember, he's a druid, what some people call a nature priest. He has talents neither you nor I could fathom. And with the Harpers, he puts those talents to good use. Listen, it's simple. The Harpers are a diverse group of people. The organization's strength lies in its diversity. I didn't hear you asking me why I'm with them. I would think that to you I'd be more out of place in the Harpers than Galvin."

  "No… you're different. You're…" For once, she was at an impasse for words.

  "I'm Galvin's friend," Wynter finished. "He brought me into the Harpers." The centaur explained that several years ago a group of bandits were raiding farms. It was just after the farmers had taken their crops to market and had been paid in gold coins. The centaur's farm was among those hit, and he helped Galvin catch the thieves. After that, Wynter joined the Harpers. "I've no regrets," he concluded. "I still find time to tend my farm between Harper missions. And when I'm away, well, at least it gives the weeds an opportunity to grow."

  "But what about your families?" Brenna brushed against the centaur to avoid another thorn bush. There seemed to be a growing number of the annoying plants. She noticed that while the trees remained thick, blotting out some of the sun, the ground cover seemed to be increasing.

  Wynter smiled ruefully. "Galvin and I have no families. My relatives are in Thay. I haven't seen them since I was a child. As for Galvin, his parents were killed when he was young. He's been on his own-and alone-since then."

  "How did his parents die?" she persisted, puffing to keep up and hopping to avoid rocks and thorns.

  "It was… an accident," he said, continuing to plod forward, staring at the horizon. Through an opening in the vine-covered trees, he thought he caught a glimpse of the First Escarpment. Galvin had told Wynter about his parents stealing something from an ambassador-a Thayvian ambassador. Even though the stolen items were returned, the ambassador demanded their deaths and their property. The ambassador's wishes were fulfilled, and Galvin grew up hating Thay and civilization in general.

  "So he's not married," Brenna mused. "But he's got the Harpers."

  "He has some friends in the Harpers," Wynter admitted, "But few of them are really close. Basically he's a loner."

  "What if I wanted to join the Harpers?" Brenna asked. Her voice was somewhat muffled, since her head was directed at the ground to avoid obstacles.

  "That depends on you," Wynter replied, speeding up his pace. "It depends on how much time and effort you're willing to sacrifice. It depends on whether you're willing to put your life on hold and on the line for whatever cause might come up."

  "Are there any politicians in the Harpers?"

  "Sure."

  "Who? Name some," she encouraged.

  "I can't do that," Wynter stated flatly. "We're a secret organization, remember. Part of our strength lies in our anonymity."

  For the next hour, the pair fell into silence, and the gap widened between Brenna and Wynter and Galvin, who was several hundred yards ahead of them. At times they lost sight of Galvin in the trees, and the sorceress struggled to close the distance, knowing the centaur was lagging behind with her out of courtesy. Her feet burned, and it took considerable effort to keep going. She yearned to stop to rest and tend to the blisters on her feet.

  Eventually she and Wynter lost sight of Galvin altogether, and she was worried they had become lost. However, the centaur concentrated on the ground, spotting signs of the druid's passage here and there and assuring her they were on course. The centaur tried to increase the pace, but Brenna could move no faster.

  "He won't let himself get too far ahead of us," Wynter offered.

  "Shhh! Listen," Brenna whispered.

  "I don't hear anything."

  "That's just it," she said, her voice barely audible. "No birds… nothing."

  The flora had remained as lush as when they first entered the woods many hours ago, but now there were no parrots, chipmunks, or other signs of life. Only a few miles ago there had been so many colorful birds that they looked like flowers on the trees. Straining her eyes, she couldn't spot even one.

  Ahead, she and Wynter saw Galvin step out from behind a tree and motion them to stop. The druid placed his palms against the trunk of a willow and closed his eyes. He laid the side of his head against the bark.

  "What's he doing?" Brenna asked, puzzled.

  "He's talking to the tree," Wynter explained.

  "Yeah, sure he is," the enchantress retorted sarcastically. But she was glad for the opportunity to stay put. Her side was aching from hiking so long, her feet felt as if they were on fire, and she welcomed the rest.

  After several minutes, the druid stepped back from the tree, opened his eyes, and started back toward the centaur and Brenna. He appeared drained, Brenna noted, while a short time ago he had seemed reasonably fresh and energetic.

  "We'll camp over there," he said, pointing at a patch of ground near the willow. Thorn bushes were still plentiful, but there was enough space be
tween them to accommodate the three travelers.

  A rush of relief washed over Brenna. She prayed the trip tomorrow wouldn't be as long; if it was, she'd never be able to make it. She didn't believe she could take another step without shoes. As she looked for a spot relatively free of thorn bushes, she listened to Galvin and Wynter.

  "Mushrooms and nuts-for dinner?" the centaur complained.

  "There aren't many animals around here."

  Wynter grumbled. "Even the animals know it's not safe this near Thay, eh?"

  Wynter glanced at Brenna and dropped her rolled-up tent and bag at her feet. She considered the tent, and for a moment she thought about unrolling it, setting it up, and crawling inside. But only for a moment. Instead, she dropped to all fours, slumped to her stomach, placed her head on the canvas, and immediately fell fast asleep.

  Brenna woke shortly after dawn to the smell of something cooking. The land was bathed in a thick fog, and through it, she saw Wynter standing before a small fire turning on a makeshift spit what looked like the leg of a deer. Nearby, Galvin was rubbing something into a piece of hide. The young councilwoman struggled to a sitting position. Her legs ached and felt like lead, and her neck was stiff from sleeping at such an awkward angle.

  However, she refused to appear beaten. Standing and smiling weakly, she greeted her companions good morning, grabbed the smaller of her bags, and looked around. It was so foggy she had to ask the druid directions to the river, which she was surprised to hear was only a few yards away. She returned about half an hour later, feeling her way through the fog and wearing a new dress, which was beige and decorated with tiny pink flowers. It was no more practical than the ruined blue one she tossed on top of her tent.

  "Well, shall we be moving on?" she inquired, feigning being chipper, rested, and ready to go. It was a good performance, she decided. Actually she felt like curling up in a ball and sleeping for a month. Still carrying her bag, she cocked her head in the direction of the First Escarpment.

  "Put these on first," Galvin instructed, tossing a pair of hide moccasins in her direction-the hide he had been working on. "Antelope skin. It's thick enough to be comfortable and provide some protection."

  The sorceress dropped to the ground and gratefully pulled on the moccasins. She cast a glance in the druid's direction, wondering if he had killed the antelope in order to make the moccasins.

  The druid kicked dirt over the flames to douse them while the centaur packed a large chunk of roast antelope into his bag. Then Galvin started toward the escarpment, and Wynter bent to pick up Brenna's tent and larger bag.

  "Just the bag," she said, not wanting to bother the centaur with something she wouldn't have the energy to unwrap. "Leave the tent behind. Sleeping under the stars is just fine."

  The morning fog hung low to the ground and extended upward about fifteen feet. The thick haze looked ghostlike, giving the woods a haunted appearance. Even Galvin had difficulty moving through it, since it cut visibility to only a few feet. The druid wended his way slowly through the trees with one arm extended in front of him and the other off to the side. He looked like a blind man feeling for obstacles. The thorn bushes tore at his leggings, and he tried to push the treacherous branches aside so they wouldn't prick Wynter and Brenna.

  As the sun rose higher in the sky, it burned off most of the fog, revealing the brilliant jade and emerald hues of the large-leafed trees that dominated this section of the woods.

  Pressing closer toward the escarpment, they heard the pounding rush of water. Emerging from the edge of the woods shortly after noon, they saw the magnificent falls that cascaded nearly three hundred feet down the First Escarpment and roared into the river. The moisture at the base of the falls looked iridescent, creating a miniature rainbow.

  "It's-it's beautiful," Brenna gasped, trying to take everything in.

  "I've never seen anything more spectacular," Wynter admitted. "But it's sad to think such loveliness marks the boundary of Thay."

  "How do we get up?" Brenna asked, still not taking her eyes from the falls. The escarpment looked imposing. Its rocky face ran nearly perpendicular to the ground, and the sorceress couldn't help herself from looking at the steep cliff in awe.

  Layer upon layer of limestone and granite formed the escarpment, the varying bands of rocks looking like orange, tan, and white ribbons. In places, rocks jutted out at odd angles like daggers pointed toward Aglarond. At intervals, lone, stunted trees struggled to survive on thin, rocky ledges. The escarpment stretched from one horizon to the other. Brenna saw no way up or around the rocky barrier.

  "There's a main road that cuts through the cliffs south of the river, but we can't take that route. It's guarded closely. But don't worry, we'll find a way." Wynter knew there were other roads and trails that led up the First Escarpment; they were used by slavers, merchants, and other travelers moving in and out of Thay for various reasons. But there were patrols stationed along every one, and only those travelers with the right reasons for coming into or leaving the country were allowed to pass.

  Galvin kept just inside the tree line, safe from prying eyes, and started searching to the north. Wynter and Brenna plodded along behind him. The trio scrutinized the base of the escarpment as they moved but saw only sheer, jagged rocks.

  "When I was young, my father would take me to the top of the cliffs," Wynter reminisced. "He'd tell me how grand Thay was, how it sat above the rest of the world because all other countries were beneath it."

  "Your father?" Brenna asked, pleased to at last hear something about the centaur's past.

  Wynter's eyes looked sad and distant. "My father worked on one of the largest slave plantations in Thay. His dream was to run the plantation. He certainly had the temperament for it. He had no qualms about beating slaves or killing those too ill or old to work. I couldn't stomach watching my father flay the skin off some poor soul's back. I tried to change things, but my family was set in their ways. They believed in slavery, and they weren't going to listen to a child. I left when I was twelve. That was more than a decade ago."

  Wynter clenched his fists and stared at the cliffs. He had promised himself he would never return to his homeland. He was wishing now that he had kept that promise.

  "Let's try farther north," Wynter suggested. "I remember some places where the cliff isn't quite as steep. Slaves used to try to escape down the escarpment there."

  "Did any of them ever make it?" Brenna queried.

  "A few, probably, though I doubt many did. At least when I lived with my father, I don't remember any being so lucky. They usually killed the slaves they caught trying to escape." Wynter's tone was solemn, and his expression was troubled from talking about the slaves. His hands shook visibly. "But they didn't kill the strongest slaves. Instead, they beat them into submission. Strong slaves are treasured."

  Finally they reached a place where the escarpment was not so imposing, although it still stretched more than a hundred feet into the sky. The sun had already begun to set, blazing an orange haze across the top of the cliff so it looked like burnished gold.

  "This will have to do, eh?" Wynter said, inspecting the rocky surface.

  Galvin examined the slope carefully. Though it was less steep than it was farther to the south, he knew it would still give the centaur difficulty. For a moment, he pondered searching for a better place to enter Thay. After several minutes, he decided on a different alternative.

  "Give me a moment, Wyn," he directed as he started up the cliff. The druid was as agile as a monkey, yet displayed more grace. He easily found handholds and footholds and hauled himself up the cliff until he reached a steep section where he doubted the centaur could pass. Then he reached out with his hands and touched the steep rock face.

  Below, Brenna watched in amazement as Galvin seemed to work the rock like clay, shaping it into natural, low steps. It was druidic magic Galvin channeled to shape the stone, sculpting it to fit his mental picture. Finished, he scrambled up the remainder of the cliff, his
long blond hair flying behind him, turning gold in the rays of the setting sun. Finally he crouched at the top like a mountain lion, surveying his companions below and then glancing around behind him to make sure he was alone. Satisfied, he motioned Wynter up.

  The centaur pushed upward with his muscular rear legs and angled the human half of his body forward as he propelled himself up the cliff. Bits of rock flew away from his hooves and rolled down the cliff face in his wake. Brenna had to step back to avoid being pelted. Near the top, the centaur's momentum slowed, but his four legs continued to pump to keep him from rolling down to the ground below. Brenna feared he would slip and come hurtling to his death in front of her, but at last he made it, breathless, sweating, and showering dirt over the edge of the cliff as he cleared the top.

  A minute later the druid threw a long rope over the side. The sorceress assumed he had been carrying it in his satchel. It wasn't long enough to reach the bottom of the cliff, however. Its end flapped about twenty feet from the ground. But the climbing was easier toward the base of the cliff, and Brenna had little difficulty scaling the rocks on the lower part of the slope. When she reached the rope, Galvin indicated with his hands how she should tie it about her, then motioned for her to use her feet against the rock, as if she was climbing it.

  The sorceress followed his instructions, although she considered using her own kind of magic, such as casting a spell to levitate to reach the top of the cliff. It would have been easier, and it likely would have kept her dress in better shape.

  At the top of the First Escarpment, the trio turned to gaze into Thay's interior. They stood near a wooded area, but the trees were cultivated, planted in evenly spaced rows, and each one was shaped by careful pruning. The trees were laden with citrus, yellow and orange fruits that looked ripe and inviting in the sun's dying rays. Thay was known for its fabulous fruits, born of the wizards' weather control spells and tended laboriously by slaves.