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Even with the old road through the forest, travel was slow. Whatever the city had been, it had not seen trade in many hundreds of years. Frequent holes in the road brought stumbles and constant detours around fallen trees made bad tempers worse. Alse stalked as close to Darris as possible, tugging at her braid and glowering as if she wanted to hit him with her stick. For his part, the young Ka'ton seemed intent on turning her upside-down again just for the fun of it. Hal's attempts to reconcile their differences met with stubborn resistance, until at the last the Brother snorted and muttered something that probably broke at least one of the Order's oaths. Everyone steered clear of Alse after that.
Tamla tried to tell stories. She actually managed to finish a few before someone snapped that she was making too much noise. Any mention of Matrim the Trickster produced such terrible glares from Tem that the songmistress quickly went in search of someone else to walk with. Tales of A'Bara the Golden-Eyed were the easiest way to ensure that Hilden found nothing but a few stringy hares for supper, while stories of the Dreaming's heroes made Mel even more foul-mouthed and bad-tempered than usual. By the end of the second day, Tamla seemed to sense she could not win and settled for humming "Hole in the Bucket" and "Catch the Potato." It was almost as bad as Dav constantly chanting the Travel game to himself.
Mai stepped over yet another branch, ignoring the puddle of mud she managed to put her foot squarely into. It was a warm spring day, so she knew her toes were not going to freeze, and her shoes were filthy already. She was walking by herself, as usual; she knew enough to stay away from arguments, since her presence had a tendency to make a bad situation worse. Especially where Darris was concerned. Either the Red Hand did not trust her or he liked to make her life miserable. She wished she knew which it was.
Don't you start, she growled when she felt one of the voices stirring. I don't need to hear another lecture. You're not the one trampling through mud and ruining your shoes.
Maybe she did care a little bit. She had rather liked those shoes.
"Having fun?" Wat asked, extending a hand to help her scramble over a tree branch. He looked even muddier than she did, complete with spatters on his face.
"I'm going to wear breeches next time," she grumbled, cutting off Wat's retort by sticking out her tongue. "Don't start. Tem and Tamla wear breeches all the time." She nodded to Tem's figure up ahead; she was indeed wearing breeches, even if they had been pilfered from Jaia's little brother. "See?"
"And I'll bet everyone in Aravalon will be staring at their rears, too." Wat did not sound disapproving. Mai decided to save smacking him for later. "I'd stick with skirts if I was you, Mai. The all-powerful Paladin shouldn't have rude men staring at her bottom."
Mai smiled and allowed Wat to help her over the tree branch. He was so close to her age they might have been twins and he had been her friend before Tem and Jaia. Maybe that was why he still treated her like Mai DeShellay most of the time, as if her being the Paladin was a grand joke that could be laughed about later. "I'll wear breeches if I want to," she said. "Especially in Aravalon. They must have some in my size there."
"Ah, come on. Don't." For the first time Mai realized that Wat's cheeks were almost as red as Alse's hair. Well. She had actually managed to make the second-most shameless person in Baradell blush. Her knowing smile produced a stammer. "I mean – well, you know how – it's not – " He settled for a glare. "You're doing this on purpose."
"Doing what?" she asked innocently. "I'm not doing anything."
"You're being – I mean – women!" He lifted her bodily over a large puddle. By the time she had been returned to the ground, he seemed to have recovered himself – except for the blush. "Did you know that you're very good at confusing people, Mai?"
Mai did her best to keep looking innocent, but it was a losing battle. "Who? Me?"
"Yes, you!" He swung her over another puddle; she did not bother to point out that she could have easily stepped over it. "How am I supposed to keep my eye on you, I'd like to know?"
"I think it's my turn to protect you now." Mai smiled up at Wat, but she knew that it was softer now, not really happy so much as comforting and gentle. "I get to keep my eye on you." She did not know what Quentin had in mind for him, but she would do her best to protect him. And with that thought, the weight of being the Paladin came crashing back onto her shoulders. It was hard to be Mai DeShellay and the Worldbreaker reborn all at the same time. Impossible, maybe.
"Mai?" Wat was all seriousness, too; her words had brought them both back to reality. "Mai, if – when – we get home, do you think you'd mind dancing with me on Harvest Day?"
No ifs. Not ever. "When we get home, I'll dance with you whenever you want." It was not a lie that way. Not really. "When we get home."
Wat squeezed her shoulder and gave her what was probably meant to be a comforting smile. They walked in silence after that. There was no more talk about dancing – or of Baradell.
***
"...and the last one limped away like a big fat tick that'd just been scratched off a dog. We had him hopping all the way back to Tashar in his underclothes." Darris grinned and did a sort of wobbly, one-footed jump to demonstrate.
"And it never occurred to you that we pay the price for your raids?" Mel asked. The farmer's quarterstaff thumped the road as he walked. "We're the ones the Tashiri punish. They don't care who they kill as long as its Manthrinian."
"So you want to sit there while they take everything?" Darris shook his head, completely disgusted. "I know a little more about fighting than you do. You have to strike if you want the enemy off your back. Sometimes there's risks."
"Sometimes you have to toss the dice." Tem could not help herself. "Bloody fool way of living, if you ask me. Never knowing when your next meal's going to be, never knowing who you're fighting or who you're chasing – "
"Not like what you're doing here," Darris pointed out mildly.
Tem had the good grace to keep her mouth shut. Barely. The Red Hand and the farmer were both glowering at her as if she had interrupted some sort of critical conversation instead of a dumb argument. She was not going to argue. Oh, no. Not her. Not Tem E'Brell. And I am Tem E'Brell, she added furiously. No matter what some people seem to think. A horn sounded in the distance.
It was bloody unfair, that was what it was. It was bad when she realized that Mai was the Dragon come again; it was worse when she realized that the Wheel might have spun out poor, innocent souls to help her do whatever it was she needed to do. It just was not –
Horns.
"Troc horns. I heard them." The others stopped around her, staring at her. Including Hilden. I thought she had a wolf's ears. Tem squashed the thought firmly; there was no time for it now. "Somewhere ahead of us."
"And behind." Jaia pointed back the way they had come as she scooped up Dav. For once the boy did not protest being manhandled. "What's going on, Quentin?"
The A'sh'man was held up a hand for silence and turned slowly in a circle, his eyes narrowed to slits. Another horn sounded, closer. "All around us. How many, Hilden?"
"At least a fist. Maybe more." The Guardian sniffed the air delicately. "And Shady-Men."
"I thought as much." Quentin spun suddenly and walked over to Darris. "Put down that spear, boy. How far is your camp?"
"Another two days' walk. And they couldn't hold a fist." The Red Hand did not sound frightened, exactly, but there was a hard edge in his voice. "There's nowhere for us to hide here, A'sh'man. Not if they're all around us. No caves or anything for miles."
"I am well aware of that. Did you see a green stone near here? A tall one, or perhaps two tall ones together?" Hilden gave him a sharp look, but the A'sh'man ignored it. "Did you see one? Our lives may depend on it?"
Darris nodded. "There's two tall ones not far from here. About a mile. We can reach it if we run, but I don't see – "
"You do not need to see. Just obey." Quentin rounded on the others. "They are close enough. I was not sure. Follow Darris. Run. The Trocs will not wait for you to reach the stones."
They did not need to be told twice. Following the fleet-footed Red Hand, the little group plunged into the forest. Tem fell back almost without realizing it until she was sharing rear guard with Hilden. Burn me for true! I'm not a hero. I'm not going to get skewered just to save everyone else. That did not stop her from staying in the back, just behind Mai and Wat. Light, where's a bloody plain when you need one? I hate trees.
How long they ran was open to debate. Tem guessed at least an Age, maybe two. The Trocs' horns sounded all around them, louder and louder until she was sure they would see a few hundred come crashing through the trees. Quentin and Hilden could look after themselves, and maybe Mel and Darris, but the others would not last long. What did Tamla tell us in Baradell? About Trocs taking children back to skin alive? She shivered and gripped her spear with both hands. It won't happen. Not to Dav. Not to Mai and Jaia and Wat. I'll kill them myself before I'll let Trocs take them. The fact that she meant it sickened her, but it did not weaken her resolve. If there was no other choice, she would do what she had to do. The only question is, who's going to be left to put me out of my misery?
Mai stumbled ahead of her, but before Tem could reach out and help her, the branches blocking the other girl's way crumbled into ash. For once Tem did not argue about idar being channeled near her. That little bit was not like the Madness and if they did not live long enough to reach these stones, there was no real point. Not that green rocks seemed to be much help either. Quite a lot of cleft sticks she was caught in.
After an eternity, when it seemed to Tem that they could run no further, the woods ended and they burst into a clearing. There were indeed two green stones here, both twice as tall as Jaia and made of what looked like rough jewels. Symbols and squiggles covered the surface of both stones – symbols that looked vaguely familiar.
"They're from the game," Wat said suddenly, catching Mai as she almost fell flat. "The signs are from Dav's game."
"The Travel game, for the Traveling a'grel." Quentin motioned them over. "Dav, from the Sun square to the Mountain square. Hurry." A horn sounded almost in Tem's ear.
The boy's brow furrowed in concentration. "I have to think. It's a hard one." Abruptly his face lit up. "Blind woman, deaf man, who's the fool – "
Snarling, bestial faces exploded out of the woods. Trocs! Tem spun on her heel and caught the nearest one under what she hoped were its ribs with the butt of her spear. She had always been a natural fighter, even back in Baradell. It was what she was good at. Coming in from the front, not from the sides or behind. One group got here too soon. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mel catch one with his quarterstaff and Hilden almost cleave another in two. Darris's strange sword-spear moved so quickly that the ends blurred. One of Tamla's knives whistled through the air and caught another Troc in the eye. Alse's dagger finished off an ugly one as she surged away from the stones towards more of the creatures. Tem risked a quick look behind her and saw Mai, Wat, and Hal all standing protectively around Dav; the fact that the Paladin was not channeling produced a sort of guilty relief. Only for a moment. Then she was fighting for her life again, desperately using every instinct to hold off Trocs from all sides.
"'Twixt them they're the Dark One's tool!" Dav's voice shouted triumphantly.
The space between the two stones lit up like a sun. Quentin's voice rose above the melee. "Hurry! I cannot hold it for long!" Something rocketed into the air nearby; Tem had just enough time to see Hal gaping up at it before the pulsing light blinded her. Not all of the shouts were from the Trocs. Dimly Tem was aware of grabbing someone's arm and pulling them toward the stones. Wind that had not been there before buffeted her. Quentin was channeling, or maybe Hal. She had to get through. The light burned. Someone screamed that something was wrong, that something was not as it should be; maybe it was her voice. Still holding whoever it was she had grabbed, she ran forward desperately.
The light engulfed the world.
***
"It is too much!" Quentin tried desperately to shout the warning, but to no avail. Too many. Too many channeling, however instinctively. He held on to those he could, prayed for those he could not reach, and pushed onward. The Skimming Stones were not supposed to work like this. There should have been no pain. Yet agony seared through him with each step he took. Light and Creation! What have I done?
He stumbled as he burst free, standing in the middle of a grassy plain instead of a forest, locking his knees to keep himself from falling to the ground with exhaustion. Too much. Too many. "Alwen? Jakob?"
Two figures appeared out of the tall grass - a young man in a black jacket and a woman who might have been considered young if one did not see the ageless face and the too-old eyes. The woman's face lit up with relief as she lifted her black skirts and hurried over. "Quentin! Holy Light, I thought you weren't coming."
Quentin spared enough time to give his twin sister a brief hug. She looked a great deal like him, save that the cord she wore primly on her shoulder was blue. She could be killed for wearing that, and he could share her fate for sheltering her. Few enough A'sh'man knew the White Tower even existed; fewer supported it, and only a handful of those knew it operated out of Aravalon. Or that Alwen Asuwa was its Amyrlin. She was the one who had figured out that parts of idar were safe to touch, if one could only find the ever-shifting holes in the taint. Quentin had never figured out how she could have possibly been brave enough to look in the first place.
He looked behind him and his heart sank. None of them. He had not been able to take any of the vereni with him - not the Paladin, not the one the world so desperately needed, not the one he had not even expected to find. Hilden was there, dragged along by the bond she shared with Quentin; her eyes glowed and her hand was still on the hilt of her bloody sword. Hal E'Sonn had his belt knife out and he held enough idan to give the average A'sh'man a headache. That was all. He had lost more than just the three girls – and he had no way to find them. They could literally be anywhere.
At least he had saved Hal. He had to count his blessings somewhere. "No one else has come through the Stone?"
Jakob shook his head. "No. What happened?"
"Trocs. And too many trying to channel at once." He nodded to Hal, who had the wide-eyed look of a deer facing a rather large group of hunters. How in the world was the Brother holding on to that much idan without showing any sign of strain? "I will have to track down the others from the Tower. There is nothing else to be done."
"You know I Saw," Alwen pointed out testily. "If you don't find her – if she is not at Shagul when the time comes..."
Quentin nodded. "I know. I know too well, believe me." His sister's Sight was the most accurate he had ever seen, even if she remembered not a word of it after it struck her. "We will find the Paladin and the others. We must."
"You make it sound easy," Hilden muttered.
***
"Jaia? Jaia, wake up. I'm scared."
Jaia cracked an eye open and saw Dav's worried face staring down at her. The boy was holding her belt knife like a sword. Bloody Light! With an effort, she hauled herself to her feet. "What happened?"
"The Travel game didn't work," he said mournfully, pointing to a single green stone. "It all went boom."
"I can see that," Jaia muttered. "Where are we? Where's everyone else?"
He shrugged. "Dunno. Alse didn't go through the light, but I think all the others did. Except they aren't here." Wide eyes turned back the forest. At least this place was forested – wherever they were. "And the wolves won't go away."
Jaia was alert in an instant. "Give me that." She snatched the knife back and stood up as fast as her tangled skirts allowed. Now that she knew to look, she could see the eyes all around her, watching. Wolves. Wolves ate lost people. Everyone knew that.
"We can run," Dav suggested. "You're important. I can hold them." For all his brave words, he clung to Jaia's skirts and stared at the surrounding trees with wide, terrified eyes.
"I'm not leaving you," Jaia promised. "No one's leaving anyone." Setting her jaw, she stepped between Dav and the wolves, ready to defend the boy with her life if need be. She was not a warrior, but sometimes fighting for something worthwhile was all that one could do.
***
Alse had no idea how many Trocs there were. A lot, certainly. Too many. And her friends were gone. She had tried to reach the light in time. Tried – and failed. She had just been too far away.
She snatched up a fallen sword and smiled terribly, sidestepping blows that rained all around her. Something told her that this had happened before – not necessarily with the Trocs, but with impossible odds. Yes. She could beat them if she wanted to. This was more than just the adventure she had left Baradell to find. This was what she had been born for.
Trocs fell around her as she laid about with the blade. Step here, slash there – it was as easy as breathing. Her heart sang as another creature of the Dark One went down. What matter that blood stained her and wounds made every move torture? She was in battle.
"Paendrag!" The word came from an old story about a warrior who ruled the world. It seemed appropriate. "Paendrag and the king!"
"Paendrag!" A voice answered her, then another. "Paendrag! Paendrag!" The woods were full of men and weapons. Laughing at the utter absurdity of it all, Alse moved her stolen weapon like a blademaster and danced the dance of death.
***
Mai hit solid ground so suddenly that she almost fell. Tem caught her and steadied her, holding her spear with one hand and scanning the woods around them. A few steps away, Tamla readied her blades and Wat drew his belt knife. Darris and Mel were already moving toward front guard positions. There was no one else. Quentin had gotten the others to safety, at least. Mai had to believe that.
Firmly telling herself she did not have time to be frightened, she lifted her skirts and followed Tem's lead in examining the forest. The landscape was familiar; they had not Traveled very far, probably just far enough to escape the Trocs temporarily. Something had pulled them badly off course. Probably me.
"I don't suppose you know the rhyme for here to the Mountain?" Wat asked hopefully. "Anyone?"
"Not without knowing where here is," Mel answered. "At least we've got a head start on the Trocs."
Tem shook her head. "Trocs can run as fast as horses when they want to. They'll have Shady-Men to drive them on, probably four or five if they're splitting up." Her hand tightened on her spear. "We'd best find high ground or running water. Trocs don't like either." Suddenly her eyes bugged and she snapped her mouth shut, actually clamping her free hand over it as if afraid something would spill out.
What do you expect? a voice barked harshly. The Warrior, Mai decided; the Teacher could never get this angry without ranting about Forsaken. Whatever those were. Two vereni raised by the Dragon are not going to escape their own fates. They're there for you to use – and to betray you. A surge of hatred left Mai fumbling for her wall; by the time she managed to get it slammed around the Warrior, the voice had died to a buzz. She returned her attention to the real world, ready to squash the other voice should it decide to make itself known.
"...should get moving," Darris was saying. "We're near the camp; we can make it if we're lucky."
Wat frowned. "I thought you said your camp couldn't hold a fist."
The Red Hand smiled tightly. "The Trocs have to split up to find us, right? We might only have to deal with fifty or so."
"If that's supposed to make me feel better, it's not helping."
"I never said it was."
"You all but did."
"Oh?"
Tem snorted. "Men." It was meant for Mai's ears alone; for a moment she sounded like the old joker again.
The Trickster. Mai sighed and gagged the voice. "Take them or leave them, right?"
"Right. You'll never see me tied to one." Tem smiled slyly after Wat and Darris; despite the danger they were all in and despite all of their supposed maturity, the two boys had reverted to the old childhood argument of Did Not – Did Too. "I'm not marrying any Daughter of the Nine Moons if I can help it."
Mai froze. "Tem," she began uncertainly. "Tem, come on. You're not the one who's supposed to go crazy."
Tem ran her hand over her eyes as if wiping away something she did not want to see. "You're not going to go crazy," she said viciously. "Not if I can help it. I mean, that's what I'm here for, right? To protect you."
It was an old joke back in Baradell that Tem was the only one protecting Mai from tripping over her own two feet. Mai opened her mouth to retort that she was the only one keeping Tem from getting put in the stocks – but that was not what came out. "Fine job you did, too."
"I didn't have a choice," Tem hissed. Something painful flashed in her eyes, come and gone in a moment. It was as if someone else had been looking from her friend's face. "Oh, Light, Mai. I'm sorry. I don't know where that came from." She was looking at her own lips as if she had never seen them before.
Didn't have a choice? You left me to –
Shut your bloody hole before I reach in there and sew it closed for you! Mai's shout echoed in her own head, but she could sense the voice drawing back. She did not even know who had said it. "It's nothing, Tem. You're just tired." She gave her friend a gentle push toward Darris and Wat. At least that argument had died down; a good thing it had, since Mel looked ready to skin them both. The horn in the distance was fainter.
Tem gave her a grateful smile. "Right. Tired. I could use a good night's rest."
Mai smiled back and kept walking as the topic turned to what kind of food the Red Hand camp was likely to have. She did not take part; she was remembering what had flashed in Tem's eyes when someone else had spoken through her – and the hatred that had flooded through her when Tem had said those words.
"I didn't have a choice."
The Teacher's voice echoed in her head. There is nothing worse than the pain of failing a friend. Nothing worse than trust betrayed. Mai wished she could forget the look in Tem's eyes.
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