Gadolor

What the Bards Will Sing

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Entressa asked.

Andel touched his bruised right cheek and gave her a smile. “Quite sure. I’ve taken harder knocks.”

“Yes, but it’s. . .it’s ugly.”

He laughed. “I’ll have to leave the beauty to you, then.” He lounged by a little fire that sizzled and smoked as it wrestled with the moisture surrounding it. Entressa squatted on her feet with her chilled hands toward the heat, avoiding the wet snow that dusted the ground. Andel’s metal flask sat across two burning sticks, and he kept checking the steam with his hand. He had stuffed a bundle of pine needles into it, along with some bark that she didn’t recognize.

“I met a bounty hunter this morning,” he said.

She glanced up, alarmed. “You did?”

“He called himself that, anyway. Just a farm boy who’d like to be rich. I don’t blame him; life is hard in this country. He carried a sharpened stick.”

“Oh. Did he recognize you?”

“He asked if I were Andel, but I got the idea he asks everyone that. He did say I look like I’ve been in a fight.”

“And?”

Andel’s swollen eye made his grin lopsided. “I told him I was kicked by a horse, and he believed it. It’s lucky he’s dull.”

She couldn’t stifle a chuckle. “He must be. You are a poor liar.”

“Ha. I shouldn’t like to be skilled at that.” Andel sat up and hooked a stick through the flask’s handle. Lifting it out of the fire, he set it in the snow. “Drink this slowly when it starts to cool. It will give strength against the cold. We should move on, though. Can you drink and ride at the same time?”

Entressa sighed, gazing at the fire regretfully, wiggling her outstretched fingers as if waving goodbye. She nodded. Huan had found a patch of living grass and was also reluctant to leave. But in a minute, they were plodding on, poking across uneven ground under tall pines, leaving the lovely fire behind. Entressa hugged the hot flask, letting its warmth seep into her clothes. The bitter tea tasted like poison. She made a face. “How do you know how to make this?”

“I grew up romping in Astor’s woods,” he replied, “They are much like these. My father would take me out for days at a time, just us two roaming the wild. He taught me everything.”

“He must be a good man,” she mused. His childish smile was answer enough. They turned their faces northward, toward Lorind’s kingdom, following a rocky streambed that kept them hidden. Travelling off the roads and avoiding people made their journey much slower. They had agreed that meeting people was too dangerous now, even though it meant sleeping in the cold. Every farm or town required a long detour, and sometimes days would pass before it seemed they had moved at all. It reminded Entressa of her first journeying with Sebastian.

The farther into the valley they went, the darker and colder it became. Mountains on either side hid the winter sun, except for a handful of hours each day. Much time was spent in twilight. And on many days, clouds covered the sky from morning until night. Sometimes, on those occasions when the sun found them, the travelers would stop to drink its radiance, watching the pale yellow orb as if it were an important ritual. They would look around them and laugh, having forgotten that sunlight cast shadows and glinted in dewdrops.

Cold pressed into Entressa with many hard fingers. Day by day it bored through the holes in her clothes, poured down her throat, and swirled around her body, searching for entrance. One morning she woke from a stiff sleep to a great pain in her head. She’d begun to cough, striving in vain to stop, knowing each cough weakened her a little more. Andel cared for her, wrapping her with blankets and making her lots of tea. It soothed her aching head, but the relief would only last a while.

This went on for days that became a week, and still she grew weaker. Entressa surprised herself with how strong her body had become these months. She could walk all day or outrun any angry merchant, but the constant cold was wearing her down. Where Andel’s strength came from, she didn’t know. She guessed it had something to do with his taking care of her, for whenever he made her tea, he seemed to come alive. Maybe it’s the smell of the pine needles.

Every human meeting was dangerous, but eventually, he led them toward the lights of a house instead of away. He begged the people there to give them shelter. The pair spent several days there, calling themselves Ascan and Elina, while she fought the sickness. He did his best to earn their keep, but these farmers were generous and called them guests. Entressa told their younger son heroic stories, while Andel taught the older how to wrestle. In the end, when she felt she could travel on, the family begged them to stay longer and sent them off with gifts. Entressa relished the thick new cloak she was given. The old one hadn’t smelled of onions for a long time, but she was glad to leave it behind.

— § —

They saw a patrol of soldiers one day as they rested in a rocky outcropping. The line of horses made its way on a road that snaked along the hill below them, close enough to hear someone shout, but too far to hear any words. Andel and Entressa kept quiet and took care not to send any pebbles tumbling down the hill.

“What adventure this is,” Andel murmured, peeking around a boulder, “We can count our enemies’ faces but they haven’t a clue we’re here. Truly, the scout’s task is a grand one.”

Entressa had been suppressing a cough and now looked across at him quizzically. “They could catch us. We might die.”

“That’s what makes it exciting! Though any fool can find danger, courageous men do well to sing when it finds them.” His face became gentler. For the first time, she saw the weariness in him, like a deep, cold well. “It makes the suffering bearable, doesn’t it? To think of the journey as in a song, like one of those stories you told the boy. I don’t suppose any of those heroes thought their battles were easy. But our bards still sing of them. And when I imagine myself among them, somehow it isn’t so bad. Who knows what the bards will sing when our children’s children are old?”

Entressa felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. He does have a way of framing it. She looked down at the soldiers, who were now disappearing behind trees, as much to escape the smile as to see where they had gone.

“And besides,” Andel shifted, pointing over his shoulder, “Our song needn’t be much longer. Do you see these two mountains? The pass into Astor lies between these. It’s only a little farther.” She craned her neck up to the rugged peaks. The pair had almost crossed the valley floor, and just beyond a little river, foothills rose steeply toward the heights. There, somewhere past those mountains, home was waiting. It’s only a little farther.