The Born Queen Part 61

"Yes."

"Very well," he said after a moment. Then he walked away.

You really love her, don't you? Aspar thought. Aspar thought. Grim, but I wish I could speak my mind Grim, but I wish I could speak my mind.

His leg was throbbing as he mounted the horse he'd begun calling Grimla in hopes that a stout name would make the beast stronger.

They started southwest, off the Old King's Road, fording the shallows of the Little Moon River before the end of the first day, then starting up into the Walham foothills. He and Winna hadn't come this way the last time, because they had been along the Slaghish River, following the trail of the first greffyn. That had led them to Rewn Aluth and the strange, possibly dead Sefry who called herself Mother Gastya. She had sent them into the Mountains of the Hare to find a hidden valley that Aspar knew for a fact couldn't be there.

But as with so many things, he'd been wrong. The valley had been there, and the Briar King, and Fend, and for him and Winna it had all very nearly ended there, as well. But it hadn't, and Stephen had had a large hand in that.

He tried not to wonder where Stephen was, and he didn't like to talk to Winna about it, because the simple fact was that the boy was most probably dead. Even if the slinders hadn't killed him, the woorm probably had, and if not the woorm, the explosion of monastery d'Ef or one of a thousand other things. Stephen was smart and a good fellow, but surviving on his own even before the world went mad was not exactly his strongest talent.

He'd done all he could to help Stephen, hadn't he? Followed the slinders, chased the woorm. He'd found no sign whatever of the lad.

He shifted his gaze to Winna and Ehawk. At least Ehawk had found them again. It was good to know the Watau wasn't a lonely ghost wandering in the Bairghs.

The foothills rose and fell in ever-sharper undulating folds and ridges. It had always been easy to get turned around in the Walhams, but now, without the usual reference points, it was more difficult than ever to keep a true path. He could see that there had been a lot of rain in the last several months and much flooding. The invading growth didn't have the same deep roots as the natural flora, and many of the ways he knew were closed by ma.s.sive mud slides. Most of the ridges had washed down to bedrock, and the valleys were filled with viscous muck.

But in those low-lying places the eldritch vegetation was very strong. It was starting to sicken, but it wasn't nearly as far gone as what he'd seen back in the Lean Gables. They had to cut their way through it in places.

They progressed very slowly. Aspar reckoned that in three days they'd managed only five leagues as the raven wings toward their destination.

And that evening, Henne, Sir Symen's tracker, turned up with bad news.

"The churchmen are boxing you in," he said. "Don't know how. It's like they know where you're going."

"Where are they exactly?" Aspar asked him.

Henne sketched a map on the ground, and when he was done, Aspar cursed Grim and ground his teeth.

I reckon Fend was telling the truth about this at least.

Because it looked like they were were going to need some help. going to need some help.

The knight woke when Aspar's dirk p.r.i.c.ked his neck. To his credit, he didn't scream or wet himself; in fact, he hardly flinched. His eyes registered first shock, then chagrin, and finally, as he understood he wasn't dead already, curiosity.

"That's a good man," Aspar whispered.

"You must be Holter White."

"Ah, I'm famous," Aspar replied. "But I've not your name in my word horde."

"That would be Roger Harriot. Sir Roger Harriot."

"Virgenyan?"

"Yes, from St. Clement Danes."

"But you're not just on your way home."

"Regrettably, no. I have several tasks to accomplish, and none involves returning to my home."

"And these tasks?"

"Well, one would be to bring to heel a certain renegade holter, should I run across him."

"By whose order?"

"The Fratrex Prismo of the holy Church."

"And for what reason?"

Sir Roger seemed to wonder how to answer that for a moment. "There are many I could give," he finally replied. "But I've heard a lot about you, and I think I'll tell you the truth. My primary task isn't to find you; it's to find the valley where you first discovered the Briar King. I'm to go there and hold it against all invaders until Niro Marco sends word."

"Why?"

"I don't rightly know. I don't care. But as you seem to be going there, I thought I would best discharge my mission by stopping you here in the foothills."

"How do you even know where you're going?"

"You made a report to the praifec of Crotheny, and he dispatched scouts to find the place. It's on our maps now."

Hespero, Aspar thought darkly.

"Well," Aspar said, "I reckon you ought to turn back."

"Why? Because you've got a knife to my throat? Everything I know about you says you won't kill me."

"You don't know everything, though, do you?" Aspar asked.

"Well, we all have our secrets."

His eyes shifted the barest bit, and Aspar suddenly found himself airborne, then pinned by two fantastically strong monks.

Stupid, he thought. Was it the geos making him an idiot or just old age?

It didn't matter now. Had they caught Leshya, too?

"Are you here alone, holter?" the knight asked, answering that question.

"Yah."

"Well, I'll try to have someone keep you company, at least until we've detained your friends. Do you think they will fight? It would be foolish."

"They might not," Aspar said. "Take me there. I'll talk them out of it."

Harriot shrugged. "It doesn't make that that much difference to me. Anyway, my men have already started closing. I expect this to be over before sunrise." much difference to me. Anyway, my men have already started closing. I expect this to be over before sunrise."

Aspar relaxed his muscles and sighed, then put everything he had into breaking loose from the monks.

It was like trying to snap iron bands.

"You've no chance, holter," Harriot said.

"You have to let me go," Aspar said. "You've no idea what you're doing. You said it yourself. Unless I get to that valley, everything will die."

"That's very dramatic," Sir Roger replied. "In fact, the Fratrex Prismo makes similar claims about what will happen if you do do reach the valley. Imagine who I believe. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to oversee this. I promise you, I will spare whoever I can." reach the valley. Imagine who I believe. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to oversee this. I promise you, I will spare whoever I can."

"Harm any of them and I'll send you straight to Grim," Aspar said.

"Grim? How quaint. A mountain heretic."

"I'm serious," Aspar said. "I'll kill you."

"Well that is as may be," the knight replied. "I'll trust you to think about the method."

They tied him up and put him under guard, leaving him to continue contemplating his mistake. He knew that there were monks who could hear a b.u.t.terfly's wing against the breeze; Stephen had been one such. But when he'd been able to slip into camp, apparently unnoticed, he'd reckoned this bunch didn't have any of those.

And maybe they didn't. Leshya seemed to have escaped without being seen.

Maybe part of him wanted to be caught. This way, at least, the Sarnwood witch wouldn't get her way.

But what if Fend was right?

It was hard to even consider that. It was also moot; it no longer mattered what he thought.

A bell or so before dawn, the monks broke down the tent and lashed him over the back of a horse, then set off at a fast trot. There was a lot of shouting about formations and such, so Aspar figured that Emfrith must be giving better than Harriot had imagined he would. He wished they would set him upright so that he could see.

They reached a ridge top, and the hors.e.m.e.n started forming ranks.

Aspar smelled autumn leaves.

A sudden marrow-sc.r.a.ping scream went up, and he tried to lift his head higher. Then something knocked the horse out from under him. Blood came down like hot rain, and he had to blink it out of his eyes to see.

Gasping, he tucked his legs up and brought his bound hands from behind, cursing at the pain, eyes searching wildly for the source of the horse's disembowelment. But all he saw were the stamping hooves of other horses, and all he heard were screams of pain, terror, and defiance.

He got his hands under his boots and pulled forward, then started working at the knots keeping his feet together.

As he did that, the fighting moved away from him. By the time he could stand up, it was well down the ridge, leaving only carnage behind. Almost twenty horses were down, and nearly as many men. He took a dirk from one of the corpses and whittled through what remained of his bonds. He found a throwing ax on a headless body and stuck it in his belt.

From his vantage, he could see two battles being fought. One was up on the ridge with him, albeit farther down. He could see only part of it, but he could make out a couple of greffyns and an utin tearing at what remained of Harriot's rear guard.

Most of the rest of the army of the Church lay dead in the valley below, sprawled side by side with dozens of dead and dying sedhmhari. Only a few dozen men remained, and he recognized some of them as Emfrith's hors.e.m.e.n.

That was his fight, then. He started down the slope as quickly as he dared and as his legs allowed him.

He picked his way through the corpses, and by the time he reached the knot of men, only half a dozen of Emfrith's men were still on their feet. They faced about ten churchmen, three of them still mounted. Of Winna there was no sign.

One of the knights saw him and wheeled his way but was unable to come to a full charge because of the heaped bodies. Aspar took the ax out of his belt and hurled it from four kingsyards away. It smacked into the knight's visor, and his head popped back. Aspar followed close behind the missile, grabbing the man's arm, hauling him out of the saddle, and slamming him to the ground. Then he stabbed the dirk up under the helm and though his neck.

With bleak purpose he turned to the next man, and then the next...

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When it was over, Aspar, Emfrith, and two of his warriors were all that remained.

But Emfrith didn't have long. He had been stabbed through the lungs, and blood was choking out with his breath.

"Holter," he managed to gasp. "You have a berry for this?" He was trying to sound brave, but Aspar could see the terror on his face.

He shook his head. "I'm afraid not, lad," he said. "Do you know what happened to Winna?"

"Leshya took her before the fighting started. Said you had sent for her."

"I sent for her?"

Emfrith nodded. "Some of the knights broke off and went north. I think they may have gone after them."

"Maybe. I'll find her."

"I wish I could help."

"You've helped plenty," Aspar said.

"Be good to her," Emfrith said. "You don't deserve her. You're a d.a.m.ned fine man, but you don't deserve her."

"I know," Aspar said.

"It's a good death, isn't it?"

"It's a good death," Aspar agreed. "I'm proud of you. Your father will be, too."

"Don't you you tell him. He'll hang you." tell him. He'll hang you."