5. At Gath-upon-Brennes

I woke to the sound of voices, danced softly from unconsciousness by the rolling of the boat. The early morning sunlight cut in sharp rays above and painted a picture on the deck, but I was in the shadow of the low rail. I sat up with a yawn, stretched sore arms, and looked for the source of the voices.

Near the helm Claighan stood talking with one of the two sailors. The sailor looked confused, and the wizard's strained patience showed clear on his face. I moved a little closer to listen.

"No, no!" Claighan said. "The others tie to the Swifts' docks. You sail into the harbor and tie to a normal dock."

The sailor shrugged, "All right, but they will know the ship on sight, anyway."

"I will take care of that. It is a simple thing. Just be careful docking." The sailor scowled at him, but Claighan had already turned away. The old wizard smiled when he saw me. "Daven! You're awake. Excellent. Come into the cabin, and I will arrange your disguise."

"Disguise?" I asked.

He caught me by the elbow and led me toward his cabin. "Yes." His smile slipped. "Yes, according to these sailors the king has a strong garrison in Deichelle. And we know he now has access to at least one wizard hostile to my cause. Edwin will have done everything he can, but still I suspect there will be guards waiting for us at the harbor."

Sudden fear gripped my heart, but the wizard seemed unafraid. I did my best to feign the same casual air and simply nodded. Even when I'd lived in Chantire, I'd never run afoul of the king's justice. I had seen what that kind of life did to my father.

I shuddered. "Will we be able to escape them?"

"Oh, easily." Claighan said. "The king has not had time to prepare a proper search for us and I doubt even Seriphenes would have made a traveling to come this far." He hesitated, but his hand rose up and felt the empty air, and he smiled. "Anyway, it seems unlikely. They will have communicated with the garrison here. That is a simpler matter. But these soldiers should have only a few words of explanation. I will weave some simple illusions—make us merchants or farmers, I think—and we will slip quietly through the town, pick up a couple of horses, and be on our way to the Academy before anyone notices our passage."

He pushed open the door to the cabin. The room was small and cramped, with two beds against the walls and a tiny area between them. Claighan sat on the edge of one bed and waved me to the other. He began digging in several small leather pouches strewn across the bed, searching for something.

I tried to sound casual as I interrupted his search. "So we ride to Pollix?" My heart sank when he nodded. I was not a skilled rider. "That will not be a quick way to travel. Can't you...." I didn't know how to finish the question. "After all your talk of problem-solving, surely a wizard could do something better than riding."

He stopped fiddling with the pouches' contents and sat staring blankly at the bed for some time. After a while he turned to me and said, "Magic is not a...simple thing." He paused again, searching for the right words. "I told you last night about the illusion of reality. People need that illusion, most of the time. That's why it exists. When wizards change that, people see flashy magic and mysticism because they need some kind of explanation for their sturdy, reasonable reality suddenly shifting."

I nodded. "That makes sense. But—"

He discarded my interruption with a wave of his hand. "Most magics are that easy for people to cast aside. They think in terms of 'spells' and rites and even a pillar of fire that just destroyed some poor farmer's house, when really a wizard only changed the seeming of reality so the house was destroyed. The how of it is a mere matter of perception. That's how it usually works, and people adapt just fine. But to do what you suggest...." He fought for the words once more. "To bridge vast distances—to make a traveling as we call it—that would require me to shift all the fabric of reality between here and there. I must make it so, for us at least, there isn't really any reality between where we are and where we are going. That makes the intervening space...soft. It doesn't feel real for weeks afterward. It makes people uncomfortable, and it makes magic there...a bit too easy."

"You do it, though." He looked at me sharply, but I shrugged. "I've heard about it. Everyone's heard about it. Magicians travel like that all the time. Edwin cast us out of the palace and you sent the... the bandits back there."

He sighed. "Of course. It's possible, and I know how, and there are those even among the Masters who use travelings far too lightly." His brows came down angrily. "But I will not. Besides, the distance is of great importance. Edwin's projection threw us perhaps a hundred paces. If I were to send us from here to the Academy it would weaken reality across half a thousand miles of farmland." He shook his head, sure and serious. "The things we do with magic only hasten the day of the dragonswarm, and I mean to delay it as much as I can."

I leaned forward. "You really believe in the dragonswarm? Here and now?"

He frowned. "Yes," he said. "I do." He shook himself and met my eyes. "But not as here and now as the king's soldiers." He returned to his search and began to draw out some herbs. Finally he withdrew a small bit of folded parchment from the bottom of one of the pouches. It looked old, and he moved with deliberate care as he pulled it free of the other items in the bag.

"Now, here is our map." He unfolded the parchment, and my breath caught. It was an ancient map of the Ardain, divided into kingdoms. It must have predated the FirstKing. Claighan chuckled at my response.

"This is the only map I have handy. I'd intended to present it to the king as a gift for his Royal Collection." He very carefully spread it out and traced a finger from the north coast to a place just above the center of the map. It was a long journey—half a thousand miles. "We will avoid towns for the most part, but we cannot miss them completely. We will stop here, at Dann, and here at Gath-upon-Brennes, and I believe that will be all. We can slip through both towns quickly, change horses if ours have problems, and be at the Academy by the middle of next week."

He folded the map with care and returned it to his pouch, then turned to look at me once more with a frown of concentration. "Farmers, I should say. Returning from market." He spoke strange words, unintelligible but alive, and as they hung in the air, writhing, they took on a more powerful aspect. Something in the world around me began to...flow. Everything—the boat, the bed, even the air in the room—everything suddenly became soft. Pliable. I felt dizzy at first, but nothing seemed solid enough to support me. Then in an instant I felt a tightening, and a sudden constriction as Claighan's voice dwindled, and then all was real once more. The ship rolled heavily to one side, then settled back, and when I had my balance again Claighan was sitting with a satisfied smile, staring at me.

"They won't know you from any other country boy, gone to town to sell your father's goods." A cry came from without and Claighan's smile returned. "And now we are there. Come, Daven, and see the Continent."

Just as we emerged from the cabin, the ship rolled lightly, bumped softly against the padded docks, and settled to a stop. The two sailors darted forward and dropped a gangplank in place, moving swiftly. The small port was nearly deserted, with here and there a sailor hurrying past on some errand, and nowhere a sign of curious townsfolk or anxious merchants. Two other ships rested quietly against a pier further down, no sign of movement or business on their decks.

As in Souport, a low wall bordered the dock area, with a gateway through into the city. Just inside the wall stood a knot of fifteen soldiers, armored and armed and looking surly in the early morning sun. As I stepped to the gangplank, I watched half a dozen soldiers swarm onto each of the other Swifts. A captain remained by the barrier wall with a handful of guards around him, and as we made our way across the empty docks he stared at us. Claighan grabbed my elbow as if he needed steadying, but his breath reached my ear. "Be calm. They'll never know you." My heart pounded despite his words.

The wizard stepped up to the guard on the gate and nodded toward the Swifts. "Some bit of commotion, eh captain? What've them wizards got up to now?"

The captain glanced down at him with a look of disgust. He took half a step away from the disguised wizard. "It's all king's business, old man. Move along." Claighan opened his mouth to ask something else, but the soldier jerked a thumb toward the gate. "Now!"

Claighan shrugged then shuffled through the gate and down the lane beyond. I followed him, entirely unnoticed by the captain. Before I slipped through the gate I glanced back toward the Swifts still swarming with soldiers, and I looked toward ours, too. It wasn't there. In its place, instead of the glamorous magical vessel that had flown across the sea, sat a battered old ferryboat, the boards of its hull nailed on three layers thick, and so coated in tar that not a bit of wood showed through. Its rigging was a mess, its sails tattered, and even from twenty paces away it reeked of old fish. I frowned at it, trying to see the truth within the illusion, but Claighan grabbed roughly at the back of my collar and dragged me on my way.

We turned down the first major street and once we were a good distance from the docks, he stood straight and began to walk with his usual strong gait. "As I said, boy, they had no idea what to expect. No trouble at all."

"They'll find out soon those ships were empty."

"Aye, that they will. They'll catch on pretty quick that our ship was a Swift, too. The seeming on her doesn't run very deep. That's why we need to be out of town. Come this way." He led me directly through the town, walking as though he knew the way well, and near the south end of town he stopped at a large inn. "I know the keeper here. Go around to the stables and wait for me there. I'll only be a moment."

Minutes later we were mounted on two fine Southern horses, slipping quietly out of the town with a loaded packhorse following on a lead. Deichelle had no walls, and consequently no suspicious guards to scowl at us as we rode out onto the royal highway that stretched all the way to Tirah. Claighan glanced back over his shoulder once, just as the town slipped from sight behind us, and sighed. "Don't grip so tightly, Daven. You're scaring the horse. We have a long ride ahead, and it wouldn't do to wear him out early."

Despite his warnings I clung to that horse in terror, as the world jolted and shuddered and the hard road rushed past far too quickly.

---

We pressed hard across the open country, walking the horses almost as much as we rode them. Despite their fine breeding, their endurance would only carry them so far. Unaccustomed as I was to the saddle, I needed the breaks as much as the horses did. We drove the horses past sunset, until the darkness fell so deep even Claighan could not justify the risk. Then we continued on foot until I was ready to drop.

At last the wizard decided it was time to stop. He found a bit of scrub large enough to tie the horses' leads, and we spread out thin palettes to sleep a short night on hard earth. There was no more imaginary feather bed, nor even a normal fire in the chilly spring night. He told me again as he had before, "When you bend reality, reality remembers." And he refused to leave a glowing trail for Seriphenes to track us by. I had learned to feel a cold chill at every mention of Seriphenes's name.

Master Seriphenes and the rebel wizard Lareth and Othin the Eagle. I had enemies in high places. It seemed absurd. These men had turned me into an outlaw. Three more hard days followed like the first, and I spent dark thoughts on my enemies as I ate dried beef and hard rolls and drank from icy streams and slept short nights on the cold earth. Before dawn each morning we packed up and pressed on.

By afternoon of the fourth day Claighan was sure the king's men were on our trail. He looked back often, cursed under his breath, then pressed his horse for a bit more speed. We flew due south, sometimes on the road and sometimes through farmers' fields. I thought of us hiding, of us passing more softly through the terrain and leaving no tracks, but Claighan had no interest in such subterfuge. "We have a lead on them, Daven. We must press that! We are still far ahead of them, and in four days at most, perhaps only three, we will be safe in our sanctuary."

"Will we?" I asked him, wheezing with the exertion of the hard pace. "Will we be safe?"

Claighan frowned and did not answer.

"I won't be," I said. "You said as much at the palace. And Seriphenes is a Master there. The same Seriphenes we're running from."

Claighan nodded and threw an anxious look back over his shoulder. But then he met my eyes. "The king's authority does not reach the Academy. Within its walls, the will of the Masters is sovereign. And Seriphenes is just one of many. We will be safe there."

I ground my teeth against the horse's jarring gait, even at a trot, but forced out the words. "Even me?"

He hesitated for a heartbeat before nodding. "Of course. I will extend you my protection. That will be enough." His eyes held worry, though, and I waited for more. After some time he opened his mouth again, his piercing gaze fixed on the horizon, then said almost under his breath, "As long as we can pass quietly through Gath."

"What if they catch us? What do we do then?"

He looked at me, some sad humor tinting his eyes. "You stay still, and stay alive. I will do what I can with magic. But I will not fight them if I can avoid it. We have already killed one of the King's Guard." His eyes turned sad at the memory, for just a moment. "And that will look less like an accident if we do anything to harm others. For now, though, we have no concern for such things. We ride."

So we rode, hard and fast across beautiful country that never gave pause to our horses. All around us stretched beautiful fields of grass, cut here and there by shallow streams. There were no fences, no walls, and throughout the sunny days there were no villages. This land was littered with little towns, but Claighan had planned his path well, and our unswerving route would take us to only two towns—one late at night, and another where the Masters of the Academy held high favor.

Sometime near sunset on the fifth day I glanced back—just for an instant, I tore my eyes from the land blurring before me—and I saw what had made Claighan curse each time he turned. A small cloud of dust burned gold and red in the setting sun; distant, barely visible on the far horizon, but it followed us where no road went. I turned back, sank low against the neck of my horse, and clung to that racing animal as if it were hope itself. Claighan saw it all, he nodded, then turned his face into the wind as our horses raced on.

Once again we pressed well into the night before Claighan finally called to me to stop. I jerked on the reins and half-fell, half-slid out of the saddle, crashing to the dusty ground before the horse had stopped dancing. Claighan stepped down beside me, his boots slapping softly against the earth, then helped me to my feet.

He looked into my eyes with concern. "Are you yet alive?"

I chuckled darkly. "I am. Yet." I shook off his hand and gave him a smile. "I am fine, Claighan. It has been a hard ride, and I have little practice at such paces."

"You have done well. You have done marvelously. And you must do it again."

"I know. I realize that." I stretched sore muscles, trying to relax, but the memory of a dust cloud haunted me. "How long of a rest?"

He chuckled. "More than a rest, Daven. The horses are near dead. We will sleep until dawn." He pulled a wineskin from the packhorse's bags and pressed it into my hands. "Have something to drink, then find a place to sleep. I'll try to find some food for breakfast."

I sank down where I was, cradling the wineskin like a child. "Are you sure we have time for this, Claighan? They were so close behind us!"

He interrupted the business of unsaddling my horse to pat me on the shoulder. "We have time. They will not risk their horses in the night, not even as much as I did. And you need rest almost as much as the horses do. Worry not, I will take care of you."

I grumbled something acid as I sank down in the dirt. I think he heard me, but he never replied.

---

Breakfast was berries and some hard rolls that Claighan found in his saddlebags. I washed my face in the cold water of a stream, and then we were on the horses again. I had gained some amount of mastery but I still felt small and uncomfortable perched atop the powerful beast. The air was bright and clear, the sun crisp against the blue sky, but my mood was dark and jittery. I rode tense, still unsure, and tried to ignore the bruised and strained muscles that complained with every step.

Claighan, too, sank into a bleak mood before the sun had even reached the sky. He glanced back often over his shoulder, and finally said. "If I stare too hard I'll bring them on us myself. But then...." He trailed off, then reined up and backtracked for some distance. I stayed on the farmers' footpath, trotting steadily on until he returned. "They must be close, Daven. It's daylight, and they will not have given up. We must be wary." 

"I'm too weary for wary, wizard." I gave a dark chuckle at my own words, and it became a long, low, coughing fit of laughter. Claighan shot a worried look at me.

"Daven!" He stopped, glancing over his shoulder as if the soft bark might have caught the attention of a great army. "You must pay attention. We are close enough to refuge that it would be a great shame to be captured now, but we are not close enough to feel safe. Watch every step. I'll be right back." I nodded, making my face serious, and after a moment he seemed satisfied. Again he fell back to search for signs of pursuit. Again I kept on, and after a moment he hurried up beside me and led me to a gallop for most of a mile. And then again we fell to a canter.

We continued in that way throughout the morning of the sixth day, Claighan constantly on edge, and I plodding dutifully down the path. We were walking the horses when we topped a long, low hill and saw far before us a sprawling town bustling in the late morning. Claighan glanced over when my jaw dropped open, and his eyes flicked back ahead. "Gath, at last! Get on your horse, boy! Up! We must appear absolutely unremarkable when we pass through the gates. The people here should not have heard of us yet, but if we draw attention to ourselves we are lost."

I shivered. This was not a farming town, lost in the rolling hills of the Ardain. This was a city. Even from here, miles away, I could see the bustle of it. So many people, and if word of us had gotten out, any one of them might recognize us. I couldn't make myself move. "We're going down there?" 

"We are," Claighan said, and his voice had a vicious snap to it. "Now. Get on your horse!" 

There was such a tone of command that I couldn't help scrambling up into my saddle, and Claighan nodded in satisfaction. I settled into a trot beside him then shook my head. "What is this place?"

"Gath-upon-Brennes," he said, almost reverent. "Home of kings and warriors. The town itself is a monument." A great river came thudding into the city from our right, poured beneath half a dozen bridges and then into a great half-moon lake that filled the very center of the town. Beyond that the river rushed out the other side, beneath another dozen bridges. Even from afar I could see thickly clustered homes and markets, but the packed warren of streets and shops seemed to wrap around some unseen wall, and a great green garden blossomed in the midst of the bustling city. From nearly a mile away I could see the wash of colors from all the flowers.

I couldn't feel the beauty of it. My stomach turned. "This is foolishness, wizard. What if they recognize us?"

"Recognize us?" He looked over at me with a lazy laughter in his eyes. "The Academy is less than a day's journey from here, so wizards are a common enough sight. And how would anyone know you from any other common boy in the world?"

I shook my head. "It's not me, or you," I said. "It's us. Together."

He glanced at me again, but this time the laughter faded to a scowl, and I nodded.

"I know all too well how rumors spread," I said. "They've chased me my whole life. And news of a wizard turned traitor to the crown, hunted by the King's Guard and traveling with a young man who killed one of them...."

He nodded, brow furrowed. "I see what you mean."

I reached up to tug at his sleeve, trying to urge him around the city to the east, but he shook my hand off.

"No," he said, and dragged me back. "You make a good point, but we cannot avoid Gath. We must cross the river Brennes either way, and passing by the town would cost us nearly a full day. That would be foolishness this close to our destination."

"Worse to walk into a trap," I said. "By the same reasoning, they must know we'll be headed here."

He threw a sharp look at me, and I snapped my mouth shut. Then he shook his head. "You are not wrong, Daven, but I find myself too anxious to reach the safety of the Academy's walls. We seem to have outrun our pursuers, and I cannot imagine a gossipy farmer making better time than we have."

"But what if Seriphenes sent word for the king?"

"Then we shall have to deal with that," Claighan said. "It would be worse if the whole populace were on the lookout for us, but I suspect the king's orders will have been kept close. If we can escape the attention of the guards, we should be fine."

I rode at his side in silence for a while. Then I said, "And how will we do that?"

"We will split up," he said, and I could feel the heavy regret in his voice. "You are right. Either of us alone is inconspicuous enough, but together we may be lost." He sighed and pointed down the path ahead of us. "You will go in by the north gate, and follow the King's Way through the heart of town. It cuts west across the Great North Bridge."

From our vantage I could clearly see the path he pointed out. It was an easy route, and it led directly into the sprawling garden along the west bank of the lake. 

He nodded. "I'll enter through the Farmers Gate in the east wall and take the Great South Bridge on the southern end of the lake. Wait for me in the park."

Alone, in the city. I shivered at the thought of it. "Will you dress me in illusion again?"

He shook his head. "No. As I said before, no one here will know you by sight, but if there happens to be another wizard in town, he would recognize the seeming, and it would draw far too much attention." He took a deep breath and puffed it out slowly. "I'll need to travel undisguised for the same reason. That may be trickier."

"Then let us pass the town altogether. I'd rather spend another night on the road—"

"No," he said with some finality. "No. The risk is slim, and we have wasted too much time already. We must begin fixing things, not allow them to continue getting worse."

I bit my tongue against a dark retort. Things could get quite a bit worse if we were caught in town. He would not be moved, though. I leaned forward in my saddle, checking my route through the city once more, and then I turned to him. "I will wait for you in the gardens."

He nodded. "Until sunset. If I do not come by then, slip out through the Empire Gate and follow the King's Way south toward Pollix. You'll know the road to the Academy when you see it."

I nodded. My stomach roiled with a sudden fear, but I took slow, steady breaths to calm myself as I always did before a fight. I reached over my shoulder to the sword hilt, just barely jutting out of the top of my travel pack, and prayed it wouldn't come to that.

Claighan saw it all, and then he nodded grimly. "It must not come to that," he said. "Run if you must. It will not go well for you if you are caught, but it will be worse if you kill any Guardsmen."

Any more, I corrected, but I did not say it. Instead I nodded back. He glanced over his shoulder to the north, but still there was no sign of pursuit—neither on the road nor in the sky above. I took his meaning, though, and spurred my horse forward. I heard him do the same behind me, veering off to the east to enter through a different gate.

I covered the last half-mile to the city walls at a gallop, then slowed to a canter as I approached a pair of bored guards beneath the shadow of the gate. One of them waved me through without even looking. The other gave me a glance, then turned his attention back to the road. I felt an itch between my shoulder blades as I passed, and it persisted for more than a mile down the road, but when I finally allowed myself to look back, they were still waiting in the same position, same bored faces. I turned my attention back to the road ahead and made my way through the city.

As I moved, comparing the city around me to the view I'd had of it from afar and above, I came to realize just how vast the gardens at its heart really were. The whole city seemed to point toward them, and here and there throughout the busy mercantile district I was passing through were hints, reminders of the gardens that made up the city's glory. I saw flowerpots in nearly every window, and little flower gardens tucked into every alley. The city was a rainbow of color and scent from thousands of flowers, exotic and plain. They mingled with the sights and smells of a busy city, the combined scents of sunflower and sweat, of daffodil and dung. As the afternoon breezes eddied and whirled I was assaulted and inspired by turns. 

The people of the city paid it no mind at all. They paid far more attention to me, riding high above the cobblestone streets and gawking like a country boy come to town. I tried to rein it in, to hold myself with a bored, busy air. I doubt I did a very good job of it, though. I felt the weight of every gaze that passed over me, and far too often it belonged to a uniformed soldier. They wore the livery of the city watch, but they would be no slower to answer a warrant from the king than the most dedicated Green Eagle.

That left me tense and jumpy, and I passed the nervousness on to my horse. He became skittish and a little wild in the press of the city, and once while I was busy looking back over my shoulder at a pair of guards I'd seen talking close, the beast spooked beneath me and startled forward, knocking a shoulder into a goodman and sending him sprawling.

I scrambled down and helped him to his feet. He was more polite than I could have hoped for, but I couldn't count on the same treatment again, and I could end up in the hands of the watch as much for a skittish horse as for my actions on the Souport road.

So I stayed on my feet. Claighan had a longer way to go anyway, and I felt much less exposed leading the horse. I'm sure he appreciated the rest. And there, on my feet, I felt entirely lost within the crowd. In an instant I felt most of the tension escape me. Mounted I'd been terribly visible, but walking with the flow I found the crowds of the city more a blessing than a curse. Suddenly no one paid me any attention at all, and I drifted with the current of the city, flowing inexorably toward the gardens.

It might have taken me an hour to reach the bridge, and by the time I came in sight of it, most of my earlier fear was gone. I felt a touch of nervousness again when I saw the two guardtowers set into the foot of the bridge, but I moved closer and found them empty, roped off, and from the look of it they hadn't been put to use in a very long time.

The bridge itself was a marvel, an imposing military structure unlike anything I'd ever seen before. Made entirely of heavy worked stone, it arched up high over the surface of the river. And though it only stood fifty paces from one bank to another, the sides were dotted every three paces with either a small, closed guardhouse or a stone crenellation which could provide cover for an archer facing out. There were even several places where slits in the stonework allowed a glimpse of the river rushing below. As I spotted each clever new strategic structure along its length, I'd picture it in use. I walked from one end to the other with the thought of fighting in my mind, my imagination rich with thoughts of defenders trying to hold me back, of attackers trying to force me from some bulwark. It was a marvel, and I could easily imagine the full length of it dripping with blood.

At the far end my boots slapped against packed earth rather than worked stone, and in an instant I returned to the real world. Here, too, stood two long-abandoned guard towers, but no foes barred my way. Instead I looked out over a beautiful, flowered field—sculpted to seem like wild nature. A cool breeze blew steady off the great crystal lake, dancing among the many flowers and carrying on it only a sweet perfume—the odors of the city now gone. I resisted the pull of the lake and turned instead to my right, following a winding path until I came to an ancient stone wall. I remembered the view from outside the city, and here found before me the actual structure that held the bustling city away from this place of serenity. Through the stone I felt the dull throb of noise from the city without, but the flowers and trees that grew close here kept these worlds apart.

For a long while I followed the path along this outer wall, marking the location of the Empire Gate that Claighan had mentioned. By my guess I'd have to wait at least half an hour for him to meet up with me, and likely more. So I walked my horse beneath the shade of the trees, keeping out of sight as much as possible, and reveled in the quiet calm of this refuge. 

I walked in and out of shadow, felt the warm sunlight wash like waves across my skin, and from time to time heard ripples of a child's laughter break the silence. The path wound around, slowly bending away from the wall, and led me back toward the garden's heart. Suddenly the trees on either side of me gave way and I stepped out into the full afternoon sun, and there directly before me was the shore of the lake. I stopped, astonished, hushed by the lapping of dozens of tiny waves against a stony shore. Here and there along the shore families were stretched out on sheets, eating a picnic lunch beneath the trees or simply enjoying the afternoon.

I turned, fascinated. There to my left, in the far distance, I could see the bridge I'd come across. And to my right, the Great South Bridge that would bring me Claighan. Even as I thought of him, I spotted him riding high on his fine Southern steed. I shook my head, smiling in sudden superiority as I thought how conspicuous he seemed. And then, with that thought, I felt the creeping tension I'd shed come washing back in.

It started as a little worry, but I couldn't shake it. I watched Claighan climb the arch of the bridge, nearly a hundred paces distant, and the hair on the back of my neck tried to stand up. I took a step in his direction and felt a sudden knot of fear in my stomach. Something was very, very wrong.

And then I spotted the guards waiting for him at the foot of the bridge. They wore no uniforms, but I could see it in the way they held themselves. In the way they waited. In the way they watched their enemy approaching. Ambush.

Once I recognized it, I saw the rest. There were two or three more moving along behind him, pretending to be part of the crowd, but they moved in perfect formation, barring any chance of retreat for him. There was another ahead of him, never looking back, but he kept pace with the wizard, and then I spotted another on the other side. They'd be ready to respond if Claighan did something before he reached the ambush, and ready to lend aid if he fell into the trap.

The tension that had been building in my chest exploded into panic. I reached instinctively for a sword I did not have strapped to my belt and darted rapidly toward the bridge. It was too far. Before I could be halfway there, the wizard would be in the midst of their trap. As I watched, two more men stepped out from among the trees to join the two waiting at the foot of the bridge, and I saw hints of movement deeper in back. Fear made my heart a hammer, crushing my ribs and lungs in its sudden pounding. I dropped my horse's reins, dropped my pack, and ran for all I was worth toward the bridge.

And as I ran, I shouted across the great distance. "Look to, Master Wizard! Claighan! Ambush in the gardens!"

I heard an answering snarl, an angry shout. It didn't come from the bridge ahead of me, but from nearby to my right. Too late I tried to turn, and saw a form already blurring toward me. It was another of the guards dressed in plain clothes, and he hit me at a full sprint. He buried his shoulder in my ribs and threw me up and back. I flew through the air and splashed down in the shallow waves of the lakeshore. The river-smoothed stones bruised me where I landed, but they did nothing to slow me. I slid into knee-deep water. The cold was a shock, and I had to throw myself frantically out of the water.

Coughing and sputtering, I whirled, trying to orient myself. The splashing of footsteps nearby helped. I turned that direction, blinked water from my eyes, and just had time to see the wide swing slamming toward my head. I ducked it, faster and more nimble than he had expected me to be, and I danced left of him and swung my right elbow hard into the back of his shoulder. It threw him off-balance, and his momentum carried him down into the water.

I wasn't in the clear, though. Three more soldiers stood four paces back, penning me in. They came slowly closer, waiting to see if their companion could catch me before they stepped into the water. The thought didn't give me much courage. I wasn't nearly a good enough swimmer to try it for an escape. I did consider trying a sprint south. If I could get past the one on my left, I knew I might be able to join the fight near Claighan. Surely he could help me. Before I took my first step, though, I spotted two more guards standing farther back, watching me carefully while they readied heavy crossbows. If I made a run for it, if I broke free, they'd be able to shoot me down without any effort at all.

Distance was against me. Desperate with a sudden panic, I pounded two quick steps through the surf and then threw myself at the guard on my left. My right shoulder crashed hard against his shins and I grappled with him as he fell. I got a fist knotted in the front of his shirt and hauled myself up as he went down. I slammed my free fist hard against his jaw, then dropped the other hand to his belt and closed it around the hilt of his sword. 

Then I twisted and got my feet under me. I kicked off hard, throwing myself clear of the stunned guard and taking his sword with me. I flew to my feet, stumbled three quick steps with no kind of balance at all, and crashed into one of the other two guards who had tried to ring me in. I aimed a clumsy blow at his jaw, too, as he started to fall, but he wasn't quite so stunned as the first had been. He brought both arms up, and though he couldn't bring his blade to bear he got in a good shove that flung me on my back.

I swept again into the froth of the chilly waters, and the third swordsman was upon me in an instant. I brought up my stolen sword, trying desperately to defend myself. He grinned down at me, fury in his eyes, and lashed out at me hard with a heavy longsword. I twisted away and snapped my blade up in time to deflect the blow. I aimed a swipe at his midsection to buy a moment's time, then tried to rise. He pressed me hard. I tried to dance aside as I rose and brought my sword to bear, but I still caught the tip of his blade in a long score against my left arm. The cut burned, the blood flowed, and the cold water on my skin stung still more, but I kept moving. I dodged another swing, then met the next with a perfect parry and reversed, slammed the hilt of my sword against the base of his neck. He fell with a splash and lay still as the water washed through the links in his armor.

All of that happened quickly, but the guards still facing me had overcome their surprise and as soon as the one was down, two more were upon me. They seemed cautious, confident in their numbers, and I felt the fear building in me. I retreated steadily before their attack, still ankle deep in the lapping waves, still uncertain on the sandy footing, but I dared not break for the firmer shore because of the crossbowmen waiting there. So I retreated, carefully and slowly, and did everything I could to keep these two men between me and a pair of crossbows built to penetrate plate armor.

The swordsmen quickly grew impatient of my maneuvering, and began attacking with more force. Sweat half-blinded me, wet clothes stuck heavily to my arms and legs, and the two attacked in almost perfect unity. I was good—better than I'd ever really believed—and they were playing careful. Still, they battered me even with the force of the blows I deflected, and I felt my strength giving. Every block or parry came a little slower than the one before; I knew any moment now another cut would get through. I fell back, calf-deep in the waters now, and they followed. A cold wind came dancing off the waters and chilled me despite the heat of combat, and I had to fight sudden shivers.

And then a larger wave smashed against the backs of my knees and I began to topple forward. One of the guards grinned at my falter, but I let the water wash me forward, and just as the wave hit him, I lashed out. My stumble turned the attack so I hit him with the flat of my blade instead of the edge, but it slipped off the armor on his shoulder and crashed hard against the side of his head, sending him sprawling.

But even as I fell forward, the other guard turned to finish me. I kicked out under the water and felt my boot connect with his ankle, and he stumbled back. Grimly I kicked against the sand underfoot and scuttled away in the water. I reached down and shoved myself aright as I moved. It was a clumsy maneuver, but I was able to gain my feet while the other swordsman was still cursing his damaged ankle. I almost grinned then, as the fire of battle rushed through me. I took two great, noisy leaps forward, swinging my sword high to finish him, when suddenly a new fire shot through my leg.

In an instant I lost all strength. I fell forward into the chill waters. I looked down as I fell, astonished, and saw water stained black and red around my left calf. A heavy crossbow bolt stood clear against the stony bed of the lake for just a moment before another wash of blood obscured the waters. I slammed down after it.

I fought to rebuild my mental image of the scene, to figure out where I should be. There was still another crossbowman ready to fire, and another swordsman close at hand. I struggled to regain my feet, but panic had me, and I merely splashed about in the water. Pain washed in wave after blinding wave over my torn leg, and mingled with fear and weariness it nearly drove me mad. I fought for control, fought to simply hold still and await death with some dignity, but I kept floundering uselessly.

I felt as much as heard a heavy step splash down beside me. I sucked in a deep breath, though it was half water, and gripped the threaded steel of the sword hilt as if it could preserve me. The tip was buried in the earth beneath me, and I hadn't the strength to wrench it out and into any kind of a block. Not in time. Not with him so close. Not with the threat of a crossbow bolt through my chest if I ducked the wrong direction. At last I fell still, paralyzed by my fear.

Every muscle in my body tensed until my bones creaked, but no blow came. I coughed, sputtering, and waited for the felling stroke. Instead, I felt a bony hand grip my left shoulder, just above the cut, and with surprising strength pull me straight to my feet. I nearly fell again when my leg began to give, but the hand steadied me, kept me upright.

For an instant I simply stood there, breath burning in my lungs, amazed I was still alive. But the wizard's words burned bright in my memory. It will not go well for you if you are caught. This man behind me had shown me some mercy, but I could not afford it. Still tense, I unleashed all my strength like a spring wound to the breaking point. I ripped the sword free of the earth and spun with all my might. The blade flashed up in the air, flinging out a fine spray of water that sparkled in the evening sun. The sword, too, glittered as it soared through a graceful arc and then down. I twisted at the waist and drove the blade home with all my strength. 

Something happened, then. Rapidly. I felt invisible cords, bonds, almost casually snake around me. They whispered out around the blade, flowing like the ripple of a little springtime breeze but a heartbeat later they grew firm. They bound me in place like steel. The blade stopped as though I had thrown it against solid stone. I hung in the air, motionless, imprisoned by the air itself. I found myself trapped, helpless, and staring into the surprised eyes of Claighan. It was he who had pulled me from the waters. His robes clung heavy and wet to his legs and a shallow wound spilled blood down his cheek to stain his gray beard. The edge of my stolen sword dripped lakewater onto his collarbone from less than a hand's breadth away.

As I watched the astonished fear in his eyes drained away. I felt the same dizzying blur of emotions: recognition and horror and finally relief that he had stayed my hand. But relief lasted less than a heartbeat. My mental image of the field of battle fell back into place, and I growled at Claighan through the bonds holding me. "Let me go! Now!"

His brows pinched in a frown, but he did not argue. He twitched a finger, and the bonds that held me were gone. I almost fell again into the waters, but I held my feet and forced myself to ignore the pain. There was another crossbowman with an easy aim at Claighan.

I shoved past the wizard to lurch painfully up out of the water and onto the shore. Three long paces brought me face to face with the crossbowman. I had the sword stretched out before me, ready to strike, but there was no need. The crossbowman stood frozen, an arrow half-drawn, trapped in the same bonds that had held me a moment before.

I turned back to Claighan and nearly fell again. The immediate danger past, my strength went out of me, and it was all I could do to stand upright against the pain in my injured leg. The wizard took several hurried steps up out of the waters and came up to take my weight on his frail shoulder. Again I was surprised by the old man's strength.

"You saved me," I said. "How did you escape the ambush?"

Claighan didn't answer me. Instead he turned me from under my shoulder and pointed back toward my horse. He started me walking, and I had to grind my teeth at every step to keep from screaming. I felt the wizard tense beneath my arm, too, responding to my pain. We made it three paces, then he said with sadness in his voice, "They beat us to Gath."

In spite of myself I chuckled at the comment. "Yes, Claighan, but we beat them at Gath. We won!" Claighan shook his head, his expression grave. He started to answer, but the heavy sound of steel on stone drew our attention to the south bridge behind us. I craned my neck and saw more soldiers hurrying into the gardens. These wore the full uniform of the King's Guard, and they immediately began forcing their way through the trees toward us. A crossbow bolt buried itself in the wet earth several paces away, then another a pace closer.

I looked at Claighan. I pulled away from him to free my arm and raised my sword against the distant attackers.

Behind me, Claighan clucked in irritation. "No more killing, Daven. You've done enough evil for the sake of my plans. There are other ways." I heard him sigh, but in an instant he cried out in a thunderous voice three quick words that melted from my mind. And then he began a more complicated chant, arms waving in slow circles. 

I had some guess what he was about, and with a desperate motion I flung myself forward and grabbed the strap of my traveling pack. I reached for the reins of my horse, too, but before I got there I felt the air around me grow tense, as though lax strings had once again been drawn tight around me. The sensation was more violent this time—the threads seemed to slice into me, heat and darkness exploding in my head. A piercing tension flooded my skull, and then a soft white light washed across my vision and I saw a tall, rectangular doorway standing in the open air before me.

"One step will take you to refuge, Daven. Find your safety! Go!" Despite his insistence, despite the pressure on my soul, I hesitated. The soldiers were too close, and I could see at least one of them lifting a heavy crossbow to his shoulder. I tried to cry out the danger, tried to argue with the old wizard, but he planted a hand between my shoulder blades and shoved, and I fell forward through the light.

Somewhere far, far away I heard the twang of a bowstring, heard an old man's cry of pain, but time and terrain washed up around me like the gentle waves of the lake. They eddied slowly around my dazzled mind then pulled away, faded, and left me in darkness.

In the blink of an eye I left Gath-upon-Brennes far behind.