The Foothills
The river Secal flowed, clear and swift, over stones. A beach of gravel and tough grass led the travelers down to it. Sunlight glinted merrily over the ever-changing surface, casting shadows and shards of light through the water. Entressa thought she saw long trout darting up and down, but couldn’t be sure. Far downstream where it joined the Oris, the river was much mightier than this chilly mountain stream.
They plunged in slowly. Andel chuckled painfully as the freezing water swirled around his feet. Entressa sat low in the saddle, giving thanks that she didn’t have to dismount. The water never reached Huan’s belly, and in a few moments, they were through. “We can make a fire,” she offered, as Andel wrung out his trousers.
He shook his head. “We’re too exposed down here. The march will warm me soon enough.” He re-laced his boots, which he had taken off for the crossing, and they pushed on. The bushes on this bank were thick, and the ground grew instantly rougher. The mountain loomed over them, and their steps turned upward.
Before long they were forced to follow a trail that zig-zagged up into the foothills. Everywhere else, the slope was too steep, and Huan protested the climb as her hooves slid backward. “You’re right, old girl,” Andel said, as he turned them toward the trail. Though their enemies might be watching, they would have to chance it. Pines and birches clung to the crags in places, but great swaths of the slope had only stones and stubborn grass.
In the afternoon, the travelers rested on a wide rock shelf that overlooked the river. The glittering winding stream was already far below. Entressa caught Andel eyeing the boulders nearby and asked him what he was thinking. “This shelf is a defensible place,” he said, “Ten men with shields could hold it from a hundred.” She laughed. He was always thinking about how best to fight a battle.
Evening brought them to a ridge overshadowed by large pines. Tall boulders surrounded a campsite like fingers surrounding the palm of a hand. By climbing one of them, one might see the whole valley laid out to the East. Westward, sunset glowed peach and orange behind the mountain. The peaks were black in their own shadow, with their ridges inscribing a rugged line across the bright sky, hard and sharp as the edge of obsidian. Entressa lay against a sloped rock, imagining it felt warm after a day of sunshine, watching the sunset fade.
Andel had decided to light the fire tonight. He wasn’t making much progress. Entressa went and stood over him, eyeing his arrangement of sticks. “I think your adventure is beating you. Getting bested by a lady, are we?”
He looked up confused, then broke into a laugh when he saw she was joking. “I didn’t know you knew how to joke,” he said. Her mock disgust made him laugh even more. “Show me then, lady. Perhaps a woodmaiden’s touch is all it needs.”
Actually, the bundle of tinder had gotten damp and had to be replaced. Entressa had a habit of sniffing the grass she collected to see if it was dry. The driest tinder smelled like straw, with none of the rich sappy scent that living plants have.
Andel chased her around the unlit fire, pushing a bundle of something at her nose, saying, “Is this dry enough?”
“Smell it.”
“Is it—”
“Smell it yourself!”
“I can’t tell. My nose is too cold.”
She sniffed deeply to display her own cold nose, lost track of her feet, and tripped on a rock.
Andel caught her but didn’t shove the grass in her face. “Two cold noses,” he said, “What shall we do?”
She picked burrs off his cloak. “Hmm, you’d best hurry and build your lady a fire, Prince Andel.”
He managed it in the end. By that time, darkness was upon them and cold breezes haunted the camp. After cooking a little supper and discussing their progress, Andel and Entressa settled down to rest, debating whether the oily smell of their tent would attract or repel wild animals. The mountain was eerily quiet as if the great bulk to which they clung had soaked up every sound, except for a wolf’s howl somewhere far away. She snuggled so close to the fire that she nearly burned her blanket. She couldn’t help dry-swallowing a few times before she fell asleep.
Next morning, light touched them before any place in the valley below, where they had spent so much time. Those eastern mountains looked far away now. It made Entressa feel a little better, seeing all the land they’d traversed. High above, an eagle glided in the icy-blue sky. She thought it grand to have wings and soar over rocks and rivers and snow. She wondered what kinds of thoughts were heard in an eagle’s mind.
Entressa stared wearily at her things, ready to pack them up into her blanket. Her comb, a small knife, needle and thread, a wash-rag or two, a pretty yellow ribbon, and some other necessities all lay together. There was also a length of cord for tying up the blanket, once everything else had been rolled into it. Though Entressa had done the task a hundred times, it wearied her this morning.
“May I give you a hand?” Andel asked. At this, she started bundling the things up.
“No, I can manage.” The sad moment came to smother the fire. It wouldn’t do to leave it burning, for it might spread into the dead pine needles that surrounded the spot. “How many days further, do you think?” she asked, as they loaded Huan’s saddlebags.
Andel squinted up at the mountains. “Five or six, if our path stays clear. And that accounts for our roundabout paths. We might reach Weddel town tomorrow evening if we used the road.”
“Six days,” she repeated, and he nodded. They shared a skeptical smile though, because their plans had been delayed more than once. Leaving the circle of tall rocks behind, the travelers passed between two of them, making their way up a steep and rocky gully. Today Entressa walked instead of riding the horse, enjoying the uphill clamber, where each step must be chosen.
After a few minutes of silence, Andel looked across at her with a curious eye. “You have a thought burning your tongue, haven’t you?” he asked.
She laughed, embarrassed. He was right, of course. “When did you know you’d found me? You know, me, and not some other girl.”
He paused and smiled dreamily. “When we got firewood together, that first night. You stepped lightly and sang a little song, and I knew it had to be you.” She hoped the chilly air would disguise her blush. That soon? Andel had recognized her right away. Did he see a portrait at the castle, maybe? It gave her something to think about as they hiked, walking upward and sideways, but rarely downward. The eagle continued soaring high above, circling as if showing the travelers which way to go.
— § —
Entressa sat against the wiry stem of a bush, peering out at stars through the bare bush-branches. The thousand thousand little fires winked at her two at a time, each a slightly different shade of white. Moonlight bathed the mountains in a gentle radiance. Silence held the hills in a sacred hush. Even the furthest peaks stood sharply against the sky, so clear she could almost reach out and tap them with her finger. If the mountain night could sing, it would be a deep, slow song.
They had made no fire tonight because it might be seen on this exposed slope, and the night was warm. She and Andel sat shoulder to shoulder under a thicket, wrapped in their cloaks with the hoods up, covered with blankets and the tent. His breath whistled quietly through his nose. Huan stood asleep a few cubits away, having filled her belly with abundant pasture grass. A little breeze rattled the twigs and whispered over grass, but it didn’t bite the pair where they sat.
She absently traced the scar that Lachish the merchant had given her. The crooked cut straddled her collarbone, the memory of her closest brush with death. It had bled for weeks, chaffed by the straps of the pack she carried, sticking to her clothes, and sometimes running into her armpit. She set her jaw against the pain, knowing the trickster would only revile her if she cried about it. It had healed at last, leaving this bumpy pink ribbon behind. She’d taken to running her fingers across it.
For some reason, she always hid her injuries from Ascan, as long as she had called him that. But now it didn’t matter. He seemed to know more about her pain than she herself did. Sometimes he would listen to her intently and then describe her state of mind, so perfectly it sent echoes through her heart’s forgotten depths.
Entressa woke briefly to find her head resting on something—Andel’s shoulder. It rose and fell just a little as he breathed. Warmth seeped through his cloak. She wondered of what he might be dreaming; she thought she could almost guess. Entressa sighed and fell asleep again.