The Shadow Roads

Three

The raft spun slowly in the current, tracing a wanderingpath down the broad river. Upon either bank lay woods of oak, pine, and beech,with poplars raising their tall flags along the shore. Dusk crept out from theshadows beneath the western bank and ran like ink over the still waters. No oneamong the somber company knew where they were, not even the well-traveledTheason. Only Cynddl and Tam remained awake, watching the shores, quiet intheir own thoughts.

“Have you ever known the Wynnd to be so … empty?” Tamasked.

Cynddl shook his head. “No, but I think we’re on the Wynndand not one of its hidden branches, all the same.” He raised a hand andpointed. Some distance to the south, smoke candled above the trees on thewestern shore. “A village,” the story finder said. “We might even reach itbefore dark.”

As they drew nearer the smoke, a small boat appeared out ofthe bank’s shadow and shaped its course directly for the raft.

“Someone has taken notice of us,” Tam said. “We best wakethe others.”

He gave Fynnol’s shoulder a shake, and the little Valemanstirred, looking around, confused. Cynddl woke the others, all of themexhausted and disreputable-looking, their clothes in ruins from their ordeal inthe Stillwater and near drowning in the tunnels. Somehow, Prince Michaelappeared the worst for his experience-perhaps because his clothes had been sovery fine to begin with. Baore sat up and rubbed sleep from his eyes, thenplunged his head into the river, emerging with water running from hair andeyes, his scant beard dripping.

Theason stood and surveyed the river carefully, thenpointed. “That is the island that marks the mouth of the Westbrook,” he said,and turned to face the others. “Theason doesn’t know how he will tell yourpeople that he failed, Cynddl.” The little traveler shook his head forlornly.

The boat, containing three men, caught up with them easily,but these were not fishermen, as Tam expected. They were men-at-arms in Renneblue. Two of them held bows with arrows nocked. They were not wearingarmor-that was almost the first thing that Tam noticed-to his surprise. Butthen wearing armor in a small boat on the river would have its own dangers: small boats could overturn.

“And where might the river be taking you?” one of thearchers asked. He was a big man, with massive hands easily bending his bow.Beads of sweat streamed down shiny cheeks.

“We go to Westbrook,” Prince Michael said. “Why do you care?”

“Because there is a war, though perhaps you lot are toostupid to have noticed.”

“A war?” Michael raised both hands to his forehead as thoughhe’d been struck by a sudden pain.

“Yes, we’ve driven the Prince of Innes from the Isle ofBattle.” He gestured with his arrow. “I’ll have your names and your homevillages.” He seemed to notice Cynddl for the first time. “You … you’re Fael.”

Cynddl nodded.

“How came you to be traveling with this lot?”

“Good fortune smiled upon me,” the story finder said. “Ihave no home village, but my name is Cynddl from the Stega. You needn’t fear.My friends are all from the far north, the Wildlands, and have no side in thewars of the south.”

“Is that so?” the man wondered. “You’ve no weapons?”

Tam’s sword was lying on the raft, hidden by the bodiesstretched out.

“None,” Tam said quickly.

The man squinted at them. “And you’ve no belongings?”

“We had belongings,” Prince Michael offered, “but they werelost to the river farther north.”

The man’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. “And have you silver?”

The occupants of the raft all looked at each other. “Thelittle we possessed went into the river,” Fynnol said.

The man laughed. “Well, at least you’ve paid for yourpassage. The river will let you go now. Pass on.”

The river sentries pulled back to the shore, and theoccupants of the raft took up the crude paddles Baore had fashioned for them,using their only substantial edged tool-Tam’s grandfather’s sword, which he hadgiven to the enterprise reluctantly.

The ungainly raft lumbered toward the shore, the fragranceof Fael cooking on the breeze and the graceful curves of their tents visiblethrough the trees. Near the low embankment, upon a round rock like the back ofa turtle, crouched a small boy. He stared into the waters and rocked gentlyback and forth. No adult seemed to be near, and the child could hardly havebeen more than four.

“He does not look like one of your people,” Tam said toCynddl.

“He’s not,” the story finder concurred.

“But we know that child!” Fynnol said. “Is that not Eber’sson-Llya?”

“He does look a bit like him,” Baore said, breaking hissilence for the first time in many hours.

Cynddl hailed the archers in the Fael tongue, and theylowered their bows, calling back to him with relief and joy. Tam could hear thecall spread back up into the camp, and though he didn’t understand the Faellanguage, the name Cynddl could not be missed.

The raft took the soft bottom and came to a stop, turningslowly, still pulled by the current. Tam and the others followed Cynddl ashore,but Prince Michael came reluctantly.

“You do not looked pleased to be here, Michael,” Tam said.

“I have been here before.” He looked at Tam oddly, a creaseappearing between his eyebrows. “I came to deliver a warning … from EliseWills. She had been aided by some young men from the north, and she feared fortheir safety. They traveled in company with a Fael named Cynddl. And here weall are together.”

“We received your warning, and we did heed it-in degree. Andlook, we’re all alive.” Tam gave a small bow. “So I thank you.”

Prince Michael bobbed his head.

The small boy, who had been perched on the rock, had fallenin beside them, almost running to keep pace. He stared up at Baore as though hewere a great wonder, making Tam smile despite his exhaustion and the events ofthe last few days.

The elder named Nann appeared, and beside her, in his longrobes, stood Eber son of Eiresit. His son ran and took hold of his father’sleg, peering out from behind the volume of robes.

“You are all safe!” Nann said with feeling. Her eyes closedto creases, and a small tear appeared. “Theason! You found them!”

“Theason found them, yes,” the small man said, not meetingher eye, “but he failed you, good Nann.” He met her gaze with difficulty, hisown eyes glistening. “Alaan did not escape the Stillwa-ter with his life.”

“But Alaan lives,” Nann said. “He came out of the river justafter dawn, looking like a nagar. But rest and food have restored him.”

Theason’s eyes glittered. “Thank the river,” the little mansaid. “Thank the river.”