11

Ambush and Airship

Candle awoke on a sunlit ledge and stared out at the unfamiliar ridges opposite. Just how far had she walked, or been carried in the dark?

"Bargain fulfilled," said Jotham from behind her and she jumped, almost toppling over the ledge. He caught her easily with one lazy hand and set her upright. "Humans are so fragile," he said, shaking his head. "And so clumsy."

He was no longer dirty and bleeding but clad in a fresh suit of clothes of a cut and style that was unfamiliar to Candle. His fine clothes did nothing to make him seem less feral. A rock wolf might as well have put on a suit. Just what had she unleashed on the world, she wondered uneasily, but there was no going back.

"Humans?" she asked.

"Are you not a human?" he asked, and they stared at each other in mirrored perplexity.

"Yes of course," she said. "Do you ask because of my eyes?"

"What's wrong with your eyes?"

"They're blue."

He stared back at her the amusement plain in his own odd golden ones.

"So? Humans come in all shapes and colours," Jotham said. "Like housecats. You all look the same to me."

"If you are not human," said Candle, "Then what are you?"

"Something else," he said, smiling that wide, fierce grin. "Something better." He handed her a large packet and an exquisite metal flask which she took in bemusement. "Food," he said, "for you, and water. Eat, drink, or you will pass out again."

"Thank you," said Candle awkwardly, her stomach rumbling painfully at the smell of it.

"More humans live that way," he said, pointing north. "I suggest you join them before evening. Keep the sun to your back and look to the rise." He pointed south, to where a column of smoke was rising from behind the unfamiliar mountain that Candle suddenly realised was the Old Man of Sterlester. It looked completely different from this angle. "Stay away from there," he said, suddenly serious. "I smell death on the wind."

"Alright," she said, a little shaken by this pronouncement. She wondered what could have caused the fire at this time of year. The fell burned occasionally in the summer but at this time of year, it was unusual. "Thank you," she repeated and unwrapped the parcel to find a generous quantity of bread and fruit. She sat down to eat without waiting to hear if he replied.

"So are you going to tell me how you ended up chained in that cave?" she asked, after a few bites. Silence greeted her. She turned around but the ledge was empty. There was no way into the mountain that she could see, just some rough-hewn stairs in the stone, leading down to the valley floor and almost hidden by the bush.

"Apparently not," she said out loud. Good riddance, she thought, privately, and ate some more fruit, the strength returning slowly to her limbs. Where in the Night had he got fruits and sandwiches from? The bread smelled fresh as well. Hopefully, she would never see him again, and no harm would come of the experience... She thought uneasily of the cavern she had found him in and shook her head and took another massive bite, clearing the memory of darkness from her head. She was alive and for that she was grateful, come what may. It was so good to be outside under the wide open sky, to feel the sun and wind on her skin. To be eating, she thought with some relish.

At length she set off towards the east, hoping Jotham had not overestimated the distance she could travel in one day. She had absolutely no desire to spend another night in the unprotected fell. The sun was high but the weather was bitingly cold, her torn clothing providing little protection from the elements. She had lost her cloak somewhere along the way, probably on that high rock above the waterfall.

The sky above was a clear dome of frosty blue. Candle felt surprisingly good as she walked - a little bruised and battered but good. If her brother had been following her she was sure he had have lost all traces of her by now. New adventures lay ahead...new people to meet... The thought made her queasy, however, it was a chance to start over, she told herself sternly. She could be whoever she wanted to be: a travelling merchant's daughter separated from her caravan... a lost goat herd or the daughter of some mountain hermit. She could be whoever she wanted to be, she chanted in her head - apart from her eyes. No one who saw her eyes would even stop to speak to her, they would run screaming or call the Ancestor's Own to put an arrow through her heart.

She paused on the track, her good mood evaporating, but then the solution came to her. She tore a strip from her skirt and carefully tied it around her head so it covered her eyes, knotting it securely at the back of her head. As she had hoped, the cloth was thin enough that she could see through. The world was slightly hazy, and she wouldn't be painting any detailed landscapes, but she could see well enough. It wasn't ideal...but she was sure people would be more accepting of her as a blind girl than as a blue-eyed freak. She walked on slowly, adjusting to the diminished visibility the blindfold allowed her. She had to take more care where she put her feet and managed to skin her palm on a rock when she misjudged a lopsided stone and fell sideways onto it.

On the horizon behind her great heaps of clouds were amassing, blotting out the smoke from Sterlester. The wind was picking up and the temperature was dropping. As she walked, great undulating peaks of white covered the Old Man and began to roll ponderously across the plains of the isthmus. She walked faster, gusts blowing her hair into a wild tangle.

Pausing on a rise she looked back towards the gathering cloud. An odd shape was silhouetted, dark against the fluffy white of the rising storm clouds and growing larger by the moment. She took off her blindfold to get a closer look and stared in wonder. High in the air, a huge airship was sailing across the isthmus, buffeted by crosswinds and swinging dangerously from side to side. She rubbed her eyes, wondering if she was seeing things, and stared again. Whatever it was, was moving fast, travelling south at a rapid clip.

Now it was close enough that she could hear men shouting, she could see them struggling to control the great mass of sailcloth and the myriad fins that bristled out in all directions from the wooden hull. Before Candle could further doubt her sanity, the ship disappeared into the cloud bank and she was once again alone, surrounded by swaying branches and the whistling wind.

She replaced her blindfold and walked on hastily, pondering the meaning of this latest vision. She had seen strange things before - dragons in the sky, wights and demons and strange dancing spirits but never before had she seen a vessel flying through the sky. It seemed like the stuff of dreams rather than her usual nightmares of twilight.

On she walked, as fast as she dared, blown by the approaching storm and eager now to find shelter. She was apprehensive at the thought of meetings Jotham's 'humans' but the thought of staying in the fell for another night terrified her. She rubbed her arm where the wight had tried to wrench it off. It was swollen and tender to the touch.

The narrow beast trail she was following north turned up a hillside, growing wider as she went and crossing several other pathways. She had a feeling people must be close and kept a careful watch on the trail ahead, determined not to be taken unawares. At length, the trail joined a broader way that could only be of human construction, with deep steps cut into the face of the mountain, and markers that Candle couldn't read. The way was steep and the climb tiring. If she hadn't been paying such close attention she would have walked face first into the first trap.

She came to an abrupt halt, rocking back on her toes. A net of magic hung over the path between an overhanging tree bow and cliff face. Candle bent closer, eyes narrowed behind the blindfold. It was a simple but effective warning spell, presumably to alert unseen watchers to the presence of a person entering their territory. Someone passing through it would not likely even realise they had triggered it. She had never seen such a thing before - such a strange and practical use of magic. She didn't like the idea of walking into a spell so she side-stepped it with some difficulty and continued on her way, paying closer attention to her surroundings.

The second trap was probably aimed at wights. At least Candle hoped it was aimed at wights. Drawn on the very rock face and scratched into the ground it was a tricky little spell that would contain and immobilise anyone or anything that stepped on it. More impressively this one was spread on either side of the trail in a complex pattern, disappearing into the fell. Candle followed it, looking for the end so she could detour around it. On the lookout for magical traps, she nearly fell head first into a pit covered with leaves and netting that blocked the way. The pit was already occupied by a small, angry looking wight about four feet tall. It huddled in the half shadows and bared its teeth at Candle, who backed away, carefully. She retraced her steps back up to the path.

She was beginning to get the distinct impression that the people who occupied this settlement were not keen on unannounced visitors. Maybe she was close to the border of Teurek. She couldn't think why anyone in the Eastern Reaches would have the need for such intense defensive measures. Of course, to be fair, normal people would arrive through a moongate, not on foot, so it was unlikely that a human would get caught in the trap.

Maybe this area was a hotspot for wights, she thought, looking around uncomfortably. She eyed the runes of the spell which were spread about three feet wide. Very carefully, she backed up and then took a running jump over it, landing lightly on the other side.

On she went, curiosity and cold driving her forward. She stepped carefully over or around several more traps both physical and magical. Some of them were extremely awkward to avoid, requiring a little rock climbing and occasionally some contortion to get past safely. Where ever she was going, she must be getting close, she thought, as she reached the top of the tall rise. Staring out across the deep valley she inhaled deeply.

Directly ahead was a great stone keep. It was the biggest single building she had ever seen in real life. The towering edifice looked like it had been raised from the natural rock itself with only its iron shuttered windows and its many sloping clay-tiled roofs to make it appear touched by human hands. It had the look of one of the Ancestor's ruins, she thought, but it had been modified with more contemporary building techniques. The bulk of the main building was stone and slate but the many outbuildings clustering at its base were thatch and cob. Flags and banners hung from windows, laundry streamed in the wind and Candle could see people going to and fro in the distance. A lot of people, she thought, swallowing.

A sparkle on the central turret drew her eye. What a peculiar place to use glamour, she thought, tilting her head in surprise as the large structure winked out of existence, to be replaced by a craggy, wholly natural looking pile of rocks. The tell-tale sparkle was the only give away that all was not as it seemed. As Candle watched it morphed into a turret again. She had never seen an illusion worked on such a scale, and never used for such a strange purpose. Bizarre as it was she found it impressive. For what possible reason would the inhabitants want to camouflage their building, she wondered?

Looking back the way she had come she could see the keep was built at the convergence of two mountain ranges. To the north lay the familiar sight of Guardian Peak, again looking strange as she was viewing them from the 'wrong' side. The Spears were just visible in the distance. She visualised her parent's map and realised she had made it to Gwavas, the eastern base of the Ancestor's Own.

Her speculation was interrupted by the crunch of gravel in her immediate physical environment. She spun and found an arrow pointed at her chest, its iron tip gleaming wickedly in the afternoon light. She raised her arms warily and looked up at the archer.