Sword of the MacLachlan - 3. Escape From Fortmain

The boys were awakened by a commotion in the streets. Alan and James quickly dressed, and left to see what was going on. They returned some twenty minutes later, breathless. “There’s been another raid!” James gasped.

“They got into the city last night, and looted a couple of warehouses. Took weapons and food…and then stole carts and horses to carry it all away. The City Guard didn’t find out until this morning, and by then, they’d gone,” Alan added.

“People are pissed; this is the third such raid in a month.” Alan continued. “They are close to rioting, and the City Guard’s got its hands full.” He did not need to add what was common knowledge: that the City Guard was likely colluding with the brigands.

Kenneth and Thom looked wide-eyed at the tweens. “What should we do?” Thom asked.

While James spoke to the boys, Alan stepped close to Patrick. “The mob has already hung a couple of unfortunates. Not likely brigands, just strangers. You know…anyone who isn’t related to them at least six different ways for at least six generations.”

“What’s the situation in the common room?” Patrick asked. “Are we likely to be able to get breakfast? What about trail food?”

“The morning regulars are there, as well some of the ones who come in at night for a drink or supper. The place is still half-empty, and we didn’t see any new faces. The boys are serving…and the Publican is pouring. No one seemed to be drunk—yet. They’re muttering, but not shouting. When we came back in, they stared at us. A few seemed to recognized us, and went back to eating and drinking. A few who may have recognized us…should of, anyway…scowled and went to muttering among themselves.” Alan’s report was complete and concise.

“Listen,” Patrick announced. “We will dress and go down to breakfast as normal. That includes poniards and daggers, but not swords. If we need to leave in a hurry, we’ll want to be prepared. Our packs will be left in the room, but packed and ready for a hasty departure. Thom,” he turned to the boy, “You will go check on the horses, as you always do in the morning. Take a hard look at our tack, and make sure it’s all there. Kenneth, you don’t usually go with Thom, but I want you to, today.”

Patrick looked at each of his companions. “What say you?”

“Agreed,” said Alan. “On the surface, it’s normal; but we’re ready for action.”

“Yes,” said James. “It’s a good plan…and even if we don’t need it, it’s good practice.”

The two boys nodded. They’d be vulnerable if there were trouble, but they knew that the three tweens would do everything in their power to protect them.

Patrick threw his things into his satchel. While the others finished their packing, Patrick took two pennies from a pouch and focused on them intently. When he looked up, Alan said, “All ready.”

“Thom, Kenneth,” Patrick summoned the boys. “Each of you, take one of these in your left hand. If there’s trouble, just drop them. Open your hand and let the penny fall. Okay? Can you do that?”

The boys nodded. Led by Alan, with Patrick in the rear, the party descended the stairs to the common room. The tweens took bowls from the counter, filled them with porridge, and took them to a table against one wall. The serving boy came by with a plate of cheese and fruit. So far, so normal.

As they began to eat, they heard muttering grow among a group of men seated in the far corner. One of the men, bolder or drunker than the others, stood up and pointed his finger at the tweens. “You. You strangers. What are you doing here?”

Alan bristled, but calmed when Patrick touched his knee below the table. “Answer him gently,” Patrick whispered, his spoon hiding his lips.

“Why, we’re not strangers. We’ve lived at the Boar and Castle for the past month. And before that, we were at the Wooden Troll. We knew the Publican there, Albert, it was, before he closed up and went to live with his brother.”

“Oh yeah? And what about before that?” the man asked. “What about before?” Every eye in the room was now on them, and not a few of those eyes were overtly hostile.

“If we are not welcome, we will leave.” Patrick announced calmly. To Alan and James he said quietly but urgently. “The boys are in trouble. You two, to our room. Close the door behind you. Get our things and go out the window. I will see to the boys.”

The tweens rose to their feet. Alan and James walked briskly to the stairs. Patrick followed them, but turned abruptly at the foot of the stairs and darted into the kitchen. As soon as he was out of sight of the common room, he broke into a run, rushing past startled serving boys and out the back door.

In the courtyard, Kenneth and James were surrounded by six obviously overwrought men and tweens. Three of the men had swords in their hands; a couple of others had clubs. The boys had their hands on the handles of their poniards, but the weapons remained sheathed. Good boys, Patrick thought. But this isn’t going to last.

Swinging his arms briskly, Patrick walked rapidly across the courtyard toward the men, still unseen by them. The boys saw him, however, and the relief in their faces was seen by one of their tormenters, who turned and pointed. “It’s the elf!”

Patrick stopped in his tracks, and held his arms at his side, palms open and facing the mob…for that’s what they were. A mob. And there was another somewhere behind him, if his ears understood what they heard. An angry shouting and pounding. The crowd from the common room was trying to break down the magically-locked door to their rooms, which meant that James and Alan probably were safe inside.

Patrick did not immediately answer the finger-pointing man. He focused. This is going to be tricky, he thought. I’ve got to get them all, without affecting Kenneth and Thom. I’ve got to get them a little closer to me. When he was ready, he spoke. “And what’s it to you, cockroach?” Patrick spat the last word out as he might spit out the insect, itself, had it climbed into his mouth.

That was exactly what was needed. The mob bunched together, and started toward the tall elf. When they were safely away from the boys, Patrick raised his hands, clapped them together in front of himself, and jerked them apart until they were straight out from the sides of his body. The men gasped and choked; they staggered; they fell. Patrick held his arms still, keeping the oxygen he’d removed from the air around the men from returning. Slowly he counted to 50, and then dropped his arms. There was a slight whoosh as the air stabilized. The men remained down, however. They’d sleep for several more minutes, and then wake with blazing headaches that would keep them incapacitated for an hour or so.

The boy’s faces went from relief to amazement as they spotted James and Alan climbing down the wall of the inn, their arms filled with the straps of packs and bedrolls and swords. “The horses, boys,” Patrick snapped, and followed the boys into the stable.

Joined by Alan and James, they made short work of saddling their horses, strapping on swords, and securing gear to the backs of the saddles. Mounting up inside the stable, they looked to Patrick for the next move.

“Hey, I got us this far,” the elf said. “It’s your turn.”

Alan snickered, and then broke out laughing. James stared at the two of them as if they were crazy, then smiled, then laughed. The two boys looked in amazement at their mentors, until they were infected by the laughter, as well.

“Okay,” Patrick said. “Do this. James, start gathering energy for a Hammer of Light…ever used one on a physical object?” When the tween shook his head, Patrick continued, “Well, today may be your chance—we may have to help the City Guard open the gate.”

Addressing the whole group, he said, “We’re going to head for the West gate. It’s not the closest, but the street leading there is the widest and has the richest shops. They’ll have private guards as well as City Guards, which will help keep the mob away. In addition, after we leave we’re going north, so starting out to the west may slow down anyone who tries to come after us. Stay together. Alan, you’re in the lead; if we run into a crowd, push through with Dasher, but be prepared to dodge as we approach the gate, if James has to spell cast. James will be right behind you. Thom, you’re next. Keep tight hold on your quarterstaff; keep it high, and beat down on heads if you have to. Kenneth after Thom. Use your sword—the flat of it—as necessary. Avoid killing unless you have to; if you have to, don’t hesitate, and don’t look back. All set? Let’s go.”

The elf gestured and the doors of the stable swung open. The mob that had been chasing Alan and James boiled out of the kitchen door brandishing swords, poniards, daggers, and various kitchen implements. Alan brought Dasher to a trot, and headed for the street. As the party reached the street, they were met with amazed stares but little resistance. The only people allowed on horseback in the city were the guards, and the confusion served the party well. By the time the first gaggles of people realized that the riders weren’t uniformed, they were past. Keeping at a trot, Alan skirted small groups of men. Behind him, James guided Horse with his knees while his outstretched arms gathered energy from the magical field. After a few blocks, James’ hair was standing up and his fingers were tingling.

A few of the men they rode past were alert enough to try to attack, dashing toward the group with clubs or swords raised. The boys easily beat off these attacks and made good time as they raced west.

Alan made a final zigzag turn from the back streets to the broad avenue leading to the west gate. Patrick had been right; the crowds were thinner here. The few people they saw darted quickly into doorways as the party moved down the street. Alan nudged Dasher’s flanks, bringing the huge horse close to a gallop. Okay, he thought, James had better get the gate open, or Dasher’s in for a headache! If the gate’s not open, I’ll never get him stopped before he runs into it!

Two blocks in front of them, a group of City Guards, on foot but armed with pikes, poured from a side street and ranged across the avenue, pikes planted. Alan waited for Patrick’s command to stop. When it didn’t come, the tween swung his sword around his head and prepared to ram the line. One and a half blocks to go. One block. Three quarters of a block to go. Suddenly Alan felt the hot breath of a spell passing over his head. A huge ball of fire streaked toward the guards’ line, hit the ground not three feet in front of them, and exploded.

Half a block to go and the guards were in disarray. There…a gap in the line on the right. Alan nudged Dasher toward the gap. As they galloped through, hooves thundering on the pavement, one guard, braver than the others, swung his sword. Alan parried. The force of his blow sent the guard flying.

Alan and Dasher slowed slightly, but continued down the road. Alan knew that Patrick would signal him if something untoward happened, but still he turned to look. Behind him, his arms still outstretched and his hair frizzing around his head, James galloped on Horse, his thighs quivering with the strain of remaining on the animal using only his legs. Behind James, eyes bright with excitement, and wearing huge grins, Kenneth and Thom rode, now nearly side-by-side. Over their heads Alan could see Patrick’s unruly red hair flying in the wind, and glowing in the light of the mid-morning sun.

Alan turned to the front, and saw the west gate not a hundred yards ahead. One valve was closed, and it looked like the other was being closed! Apparently someone at the gate was awake, and had seen them. Alan knew it would be up to James, now. He remembered that James was right handed, and would likely cast with that hand. Alan steered Dasher to the left to give James some working room. The gate was nearly closed. Less than a hundred yards, and Alan heard the deep boom as the gate slammed shut.

Suddenly, James was at his side, and Horse ran neck and neck with Dasher. James’ face was the picture of concentration as he casually raised his right hand above his head, and hurled it out, as if he were throwing a ball.

Nothing! Nothing happened, Alan thought, until he saw what appeared to be a solid cylinder of granite flying toward the left valve of the gate. As fast as thought it struck the gate. The gate shattered into splinters. Alan yelled as he kicked Dasher’s flanks, urging the horse to greater speed. James dropped back, but Alan could hear him yelling.

The party pounded through the gate and down the western road. Well, thought Patrick, I guess we can’t come back here any time soon.

After ten minutes, Alan slowed Dasher to a trot, and then to a walk. He looked back to see the others, still flush with excitement, waving to him. There was no pursuit. Apparently the fireball and the destruction of the gate had been too much for the guard.

About five miles from Fortmain, a stream crossed the road. It flowed north, was shallow, and had a rocky bottom. Alan called a halt.

“This would be a good place to leave the road and go cross country. If we wade the stream, it will throw off any scent hounds. They may guess that we took to the stream, but if they assume we’re brigands, they’ll think we went south. Patrick, you should take the lead. I’ll bring up the rear.”

Patrick nodded and clicked his tongue to Windchaser, who stepped into the stream and began walking slowly northward.

As the stream widened, James pulled alongside Patrick. “Why do cities even have gates if a Hammer cast by a simple cleric can break them down?”

Patrick smiled at James, “The answer is there, and you can find it. It’s all in how you look at it.”

James frowned, but dropped back into place. The answer is there…Where? Let’s see, we were running toward the gate, and they were closing it. It’s in how I look at it. Not the question, the gate! They were closing it toward us. The gate’s designed to resist force from the outside, not the inside! That’s…no, that’s not it. I didn’t push the gate opened, I splintered it. But it’s the same thing! The gate was built to resist magic from the outside, and not from the inside. In fact, strengthening it from attack on the outside probably weakened on the inside, making it possible for even an acolyte’s spell to crack it.

James called softly to Patrick. “Inside out…that’s it, isn’t it!” Patrick looked over his shoulder and smiled as he nodded. “Right,” he said, “You are absolutely right.”

The sun dropped too low in the sky to be seen through the trees, although the sky was still light. Patrick pressed on, pausing but for a few minutes each hour to rest and allow the horses to drink. The sky became pink, then like a purple-gray. Patrick turned his horse to the stream bank at a small meadow surrounded by aspen. The boys followed, dismounting when Patrick did and gathered close to him. “We’ll camp here tonight. No fire. It’ll be hard on the horses, but they’ll have to stay saddled. Loosen the girths, and don’t forget to tighten them before you mount. No hobbles…take too long to remove. We’ll loop a rope through saddle rings and tie it to a tree. It can be cut if needed. Make it long enough they can feed if they want.”

Thom patted his saddlebags. “I had time to load a bag of oats. It’s not much for five horses, but it will help.”

“Thanks, Thom. We’ll save that for hard times, and let them eat grass for a while. Good thinking.” Patrick continued. “Watch list. Thom and I are first; James will relieve Thom; Alan will relieve me; Kenneth will relieve James; I’ll relieve Alan. Tomorrow, if we still need a watch, we’ll change the rota. Tend the horses, then some food. Watch starts in an hour.”

The boys set to work, loosening girths, brushing the horses, watering them, and tying them to a lone aspen near the center of the clearing. Having cared for the horses, they threw two blankets on the ground, side by side. Thom and Patrick sat on one blanket, while James, Alan, and Kenneth prepared for sleep on the other. Patrick took another blanket, and covered the boys. “It’ll be cool, soon. Sleep well.”

“Thom,” Patrick whispered, “I’m going to cast a spell. Don’t interrupt me for a few minutes, but keep a sharp eye out.” The boy nodded. He had seen Patrick do this, before. Patrick concentrated, gathering magic to him, and then sending it out in gentle, concentric rings. He felt each ring, looking for a disturbance that would indicate an enemy, a pursuer, a dangerous animal, or a brigand band camped in the woods. The circles weakened as they reached the limits of his power, but he was able to determine that the companions were in no immediate danger. Casting another ring, he put it in place about a mile away, anchored it, and tied it to his mind so that anything penetrating would alert him. There’s no real need for a watch, I think, with this spell; it’s good practice, however. If we’re going to do what I think we’re going to do, we’re going to need all the practice we can get.

Kenneth woke the others as Patrick removed the rope linking the horses. The sun had barely lightened the sky; it was cold enough that the ground and blankets are covered with frost. Kenneth went to help Patrick water the horses. While the horses drank, Patrick hugged Kenneth to him. “Are you okay, Kenneth?”

The boy returned the hug, pressing his body against the elven tween. Resting his head against Patrick’s chest, Kenneth listened to the steady beat of Patrick’s heart. “Yes. I’m okay. Nothing in my training could have prepared me for the first time I killed…it was a Troll, you know. I would have thought that nothing could have prepared me for everything that happened yesterday. But you did, and James did and Alan did—in little ways, over the months, during our adventures. And when I needed it, it all came together, just as if we’d rehearsed it. Yes, I’m okay.” The boy paused, “But thank you for asking. And thank you for holding me when you asked. I feel a lot better, now.”

Patrick smiled, bent his head down, and kissed the boy. “Thank you, Kenneth. I’m glad Alan and I met you and James. And I’m glad we are still together.”

“Hey, you two! Are we going to ride, or are you going to make out all day?” Alan called softly. Kenneth and Patrick led the horses to where the others were standing.

“Alan,” Patrick began, “There’s a monastery a tenday’s ride to the northwest. I’d like us to go there.”

“If we go through the woods toward the north, we’ll intersect the farm road that runs east from Glebe, and will pass the farm where Kenneth and I stayed after we were ambushed, James said. “Do you think it would be safe to stop there?”

“That would be an excellent idea,” Patrick said. “You said they were Good people. We will want a place to stay and rest the horses after several days on the trail. And, they may have news that would be of use to us.”

*****

James and Kenneth led the companions down the road to the farmhouse they had visited only a few months ago. It was early afternoon, and they could see boys exercising horses in the large arena on the west side of the complex of buildings that included barns, house, bathhouse, men’s house, and smithy. James rode ahead, calling out the names of the boys he recognized, to allay any fears. “Ho, Dan! Ho, Kevin! It’s James and Kenneth…we’ve brought friends!”

As soon as the twins recognized James, they leapt from their horses, scaled the split-rail fence, and ran down the road toward him. James and Kenneth dismounted and greeted the twins with hugs.

“We thought we’d never see you, again,” Dan said.

“Yeah,” Kevin added. “Did you get lost, again? Who are your friends? Is he an elf?”

“This is Patrick, who surely is an elf; this is Alan; and this is Thom.”

By this time, other boys and their father had arrived.

“Welcome, again, James and Kenneth, and your friends,” the Farmer said. “The day is early, but you will stay the night, will you not?”

“We would be most grateful if we could rest,” James said.

“Kenneth! Come see,” Kevin said. “This is the horse you healed. Watch.” Kevin and Dan had dragged Kenneth to the ring where the horses were exercised. Now, Kevin took the horse through a series of exercises and jumps that were a part of early destrier training.

“He moves well,” Kenneth said.

James, who had joined the boys, added, “Very good form. I only lived in Bowling Green for a few years, but I watched a lot of dressage.”

“I am very honored to meet you, Mistress,” Patrick said to the boys’ grandmother. “Kenneth told me of your healing spell and poultice. If you had not treated Kenneth, it may be that both he and James would have died. We are in your debt.”

“Stuff and nonsense, child,” she said.

Child? Patrick mused. She’s never seen an elf before. And she’s probably, what? 600 years old? 800?

Kevin and Dan’s father took James aside after supper. “The twins, they’ve decided they want to be healers…like you,” the man began. “They said that you told them it was a lot harder than it looked, and that they’d have to learn to read and write, and study a lot before they could even start to work magic. But they’re sure. I just don’t know how to get them started…”

James thought for a minute. “You’re a couple of tendays from Arcadia, even in good weather, is that about right?”

The Farmer nodded. “Yes, an older son, one you didn’t meet, he joined the army. We got a letter…his centurion had written it for him, and a mendicant who came through read it for us. It took him a half-month, on horseback, to get to Arcadia.”

“The twins are too young to travel alone…,” James mused.

“What are you thinking?”

“I have a friend in Arcadia, at the temple. If I asked him, he would certainly take the twins as Probationers for a ten-year…and then he and they could decide after that if they still wanted to be healers. Getting the boys there would be a problem, though.”

“Not much to do on a farm after harvest. No reason a couple of tweens couldn’t take them and return home. Don’t have much real money…perhaps we could sell the horses they ride in on…”

“Money won’t be a problem,” James said. “There’s no cost for temple training. They’d need some to travel on…and if I’m going to sponsor them, it becomes my responsibility by temple custom. If you and they want to go through with this, I’ll write a letter for them to carry and provide funds. We also can give you some information on the road, and some places to stay once you get on the farm road from Fortmain to Arcadia.”

Two days later, after very emotional farewells, the companions rode west; the twins and two of their older brothers rode to the east.