sword so that it might not be found and point their direction.
Haldane dug a shallow grave with his sword blade there where the bushes were thickest, and laid the sword away with its hilt to the east, returning the good iron to the earth from which it had come, tucking the warrior in for his final rest. As Oliver watched, Haldane covered the sword over with dirt and mold and leaves, and then laid the lone daffodil with its crushed stem on the grave.
Haldane said, “Rest, Morca. You will be avenged.” And then backed out of the bushes. There were tears again on his cheeks.
It was now well along in the morning. They were being hunted, the son of Black Morca and Morca’s wizard. They were not safe. Safety would be Arngrim’s fort on high Little Nail, or better Palsance. And Haldane was dizzy-witted.
Oliver grabbed up his bag and led Haldane away. He paused at the last protection of the copse. When he had spied the land he had seen nothing, but he had an unbearable presentiment of danger. He feared the Gets who lurked, waiting for them to step from cover to cut them down. But though he looked again, he still saw nothing, and because he must Oliver led the way from the thicket.
They raised a deer with their first steps. It started up, thrashing to its feet, and bounded away.
In time, Oliver’s heart mended.
Chapter 9
A LONG THE FOREST TRAILS THEY WALKED to find the Pellardy Road, first grandson Giles trudging, then old gnarled Noll with his bag. Their pace was slow. There was no spring in Giles’ stride, the poor wounded, spell-confused peasant boy Haldane. He still was not sure of himself. And his head ached.
For all that the day was green and gold, Noll was content with the pace. He was stiff. He had spent too much of the night awake and then slept as badly as a sailor his first night on land. At his age he needed a good night’s rest. The bag he carried with all their lives within was a burden. He would cough frequently but could not clear his lungs.
Haldane was still fuddled. Sometimes he would ask questions like, “I can’t remember who killed Hemming. Tell me again?” Other times he would turn and look at Oliver as though he didn’t believe in him and expected the stranger behind him to have disappeared. But it was Haldane who led the way, now they had found a trail to follow.
In the blind dash through the morning night to the forest and panting concealment, Oliver had taken them farther than he could recognize the land. It was as strange to him as any place three leas from his native hearth in Palsance. Since he was a boy he had always been best occupied indoors. He knew this country from what other men had let drop of it, and from an old map he had that showed all the duchies of Nestor before the Gets took the land. He knew the map well. It had brought him at the first from Palsance to Morca’s dun in the old duchy of Bary.
So, when they set out, Oliver took the map from his bag and studied it. It told him only that they were in the forest. Haldane was a silent mind-spun boy and asked no questions, but Oliver was embarrassed for the map. It showed the road, but not how to reach it. By his map, but more by guess, Oliver led them until they reached a trail.
Then Oliver found he could let Haldane lead the way. Haldane had hunted all over this land since he was small and he did not need his head to be a guide. His feet knew all the trails.
It was a quiet morning with many rests. Oliver called a halt whenever he thought Haldane needed one. Haldane continued distracted. He looked often at his hands and smock and shook his head. He asked questions for his vengeance too, but Oliver did not encourage the boy with the answers he gave him. Oliver was usually a ready talker, but today he thought much on the Chaining of Wild Lightning and was a silent gnarly red-man.
They reached the Pellardy Road near midday. They ate more dried beef as they walked. It was all they had.
There were many rests in the
Haldane dug a shallow grave with his sword blade there where the bushes were thickest, and laid the sword away with its hilt to the east, returning the good iron to the earth from which it had come, tucking the warrior in for his final rest. As Oliver watched, Haldane covered the sword over with dirt and mold and leaves, and then laid the lone daffodil with its crushed stem on the grave.
Haldane said, “Rest, Morca. You will be avenged.” And then backed out of the bushes. There were tears again on his cheeks.
It was now well along in the morning. They were being hunted, the son of Black Morca and Morca’s wizard. They were not safe. Safety would be Arngrim’s fort on high Little Nail, or better Palsance. And Haldane was dizzy-witted.
Oliver grabbed up his bag and led Haldane away. He paused at the last protection of the copse. When he had spied the land he had seen nothing, but he had an unbearable presentiment of danger. He feared the Gets who lurked, waiting for them to step from cover to cut them down. But though he looked again, he still saw nothing, and because he must Oliver led the way from the thicket.
They raised a deer with their first steps. It started up, thrashing to its feet, and bounded away.
In time, Oliver’s heart mended.
Chapter 9
A LONG THE FOREST TRAILS THEY WALKED to find the Pellardy Road, first grandson Giles trudging, then old gnarled Noll with his bag. Their pace was slow. There was no spring in Giles’ stride, the poor wounded, spell-confused peasant boy Haldane. He still was not sure of himself. And his head ached.
For all that the day was green and gold, Noll was content with the pace. He was stiff. He had spent too much of the night awake and then slept as badly as a sailor his first night on land. At his age he needed a good night’s rest. The bag he carried with all their lives within was a burden. He would cough frequently but could not clear his lungs.
Haldane was still fuddled. Sometimes he would ask questions like, “I can’t remember who killed Hemming. Tell me again?” Other times he would turn and look at Oliver as though he didn’t believe in him and expected the stranger behind him to have disappeared. But it was Haldane who led the way, now they had found a trail to follow.
In the blind dash through the morning night to the forest and panting concealment, Oliver had taken them farther than he could recognize the land. It was as strange to him as any place three leas from his native hearth in Palsance. Since he was a boy he had always been best occupied indoors. He knew this country from what other men had let drop of it, and from an old map he had that showed all the duchies of Nestor before the Gets took the land. He knew the map well. It had brought him at the first from Palsance to Morca’s dun in the old duchy of Bary.
So, when they set out, Oliver took the map from his bag and studied it. It told him only that they were in the forest. Haldane was a silent mind-spun boy and asked no questions, but Oliver was embarrassed for the map. It showed the road, but not how to reach it. By his map, but more by guess, Oliver led them until they reached a trail.
Then Oliver found he could let Haldane lead the way. Haldane had hunted all over this land since he was small and he did not need his head to be a guide. His feet knew all the trails.
It was a quiet morning with many rests. Oliver called a halt whenever he thought Haldane needed one. Haldane continued distracted. He looked often at his hands and smock and shook his head. He asked questions for his vengeance too, but Oliver did not encourage the boy with the answers he gave him. Oliver was usually a ready talker, but today he thought much on the Chaining of Wild Lightning and was a silent gnarly red-man.
They reached the Pellardy Road near midday. They ate more dried beef as they walked. It was all they had.
There were many rests in the
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