Roar, page 7
Soldiers? Charges? Camille hadn't realised that the captured hamadryads were soldiers. But then she hadn't known much about them at all. All she knew was that a group of hamadryads had been sent to the dungeons a week before. She'd heard the guards name them as such when they called out their roster each shift change. But their cells hadn’t been near hers, and in any case any conversation louder than a whisper was forbidden in the dungeon.
What she did know was that they were strong and organised. They had not been tortured as far as she knew. And they would have a clear direction in mind to march to. They would be a good group to travel with. And perhaps since her mother was part hamadryad, they might know something about what the Eternal King had done to her. How he had transformed her into something else and why. Besides if her mother was part hamadryad then it followed that so was she. Perhaps that would count for something with their people.
So as the soldiers began their slow march south she followed them, and she called to the others to join them. At least she assumed they were heading south since Erisen lay to the south. She had no actual sense of direction after spending so long locked away. The darkness didn’t help either. In fact all she really knew was that they were heading toward the forest. But that was a good thing in itself. Forests had trees you could hide among.
Others followed. Those who had listened to the dark-haired woman and understood the importance of staying together. She was in turn supporting the blonde woman. But not all came with them. Some remained where they were on the riverbank. Others got up and headed in different directions. A few even got back in the river. It was a clever idea – provided they could endure the cold.
It was not an easy march. Camille had been locked away in her cell for so long that she had become weak. But even before that she had been locked in a house in the imperial quarters of the Palace of the Sun. Locked away for fifteen years! Her legs were not used to carrying her more than a few feet at a time. And the ground was uneven under foot. She had not walked on anything but a flat stone floor for so long that she didn't know how to walk on dirt. She found herself trembling with exertion, breathing heavily and finding her heart racing after only a few dozen paces. And with every step she took she kept worrying that the soldiers were already on their trail. She couldn’t help looking back to check every so often. Listening for the sound of horses behind them.
She fell over. Repeatedly. And each time it took her everything she had to get back up. But she had to get back up. Because she could not go back to that cell again. She could not be killed either. So she crawled back up to her feet like the others, and kept walking. And when the time came that she could no longer get back up, she decided that she would crawl.
The only thing that mattered was that with every step she was putting the Eternal City further behind her.
Soon she promised herself, the walls of the Eternal City would no longer be visible. There would only be trees. And in a few hours she was looking forward to seeing a sight she could barely even remember – the sun rising in the sky. Blue sky. So that hope and the fear of ending up back in her cell, lent her legs the strength they needed to keep walking.
Never once though as she walked through her exhaustion and kept looking back for the soldiers giving chase, did she think to look for a shaggy, green-eyed monster.
Chapter Six
It was good to be outside. But then, Thorm realised as he stood on the grass after shaking himself more or less dry, he hadn't been fully out of the city in many years. Since well before he had been spelled by the hag. He wasn't completely sure why. Sometimes he had wandered up to the grate at the end of the sewer and gazed out across the wild grasslands. He would look at the massive and overgrown fields of tall grass, tussocks and reed in front of him and think about simply running out and enjoying the open space. A couple of times he'd even got in the water and swam underneath it to stand on the other side at the edge of the waterfall and dream. But he'd never gone any further.
As a boy he had spent his life outside. He had grown up a child of traders. He had travelled from one end of the realm to the other in a covered wagon. And for the most part he had loved it. But at some point he had changed. He had learned first to smith and then to smith weapons. Fine weapons. He had apprenticed to Master Halcott in Leith and discovered what it was like to live in a house and not move. And after Master Halcott had passed from the world, he had taken over his workshop, and in time moved to the Eternal City.
It had all seemed so logical. A simple progression as he had grown from a child into a man and an apprentice into an artisan. And yet just then, standing on the grass just outside the city under the light of the full moon, he couldn't help but wonder if it had all been a mistake.
Of course since he had been transformed into a lion, leaving the city hadn't been an option. The books of magic and the book stores were here. The hag was here – and he still dreamed of one day finding her and getting her to change him back. The other wizards were here too, even if they were chained up in the Palace of the Sun. They might have the answer he needed. He could leave, but it would be tantamount to giving up on his dream of regaining his human form. Until now. Now his hope lay outside the city walls with the hamadryads.
What could he learn from them? Did they have the answer he needed? Or was this all a waste of time? He didn't know. But for the first time in ages, he had hope. Just a little, but still something. It was like a fire smouldering in his belly. But there was also fear. That they might not have an answer for him. Or that they might. That they might only be able to tell him that he was doomed to walk on four legs for the rest of his life.
Still, he realised as he tried to get warm and dry after his short swim, he didn't have time to dwell on such things as hope and fear. He had hundreds of escaped prisoners he needed to help. First though he had to find them. The escapees hadn't crawled out of the river as soon as they'd gotten past the city walls as he'd expected. That meant he would have to track them down.
Thorm set off after the escaped prisoners, following the course of the river as it flowed east, assuming that since the hamadryads and the rest weren't right by the city wall where he'd come out, they must have let the river carry them some distance away.
It felt good to run alongside the river, even if the long grass constantly tickled his belly. The ability to run freely in the open after three long years of skulking in the shadows was shockingly invigorating. He felt free. Alive in a way he hadn't known in too long. He guessed it would be a short lived thrill though as once the sun came up he would need to find cover to avoid being seen.
But maybe a hundred yards downstream, he stopped, realising that it would be a mistake to just run out in the open. He would be seen. By soldiers and by the escaped prisoners. And both options would be bad. The soldiers would hunt him. The prisoners would flee from him. So to make certain that he wouldn't be spotted he cast the spell of chameleon on himself. It was a simple magic. Far simpler than the other magics of illusion he had been able to cast before he had been transformed, but effective. The spell painted him in the colours and patterns of the world around him, making it harder for people to spot him – especially in the darkness. During the last three years he had found it one of the most useful spells he had relearned to cast. These days he could cast it almost without thinking. Then, as safe as he could make himself from curious eyes, he continued his search.
Perhaps half a league down river his hunch was proven correct as he came across the escapees. They had all washed up on a flat river bank just around a dog leg bend. But while it was good to find them so quickly, he realised that his plan had already come undone. Most of the prisoners were in no condition to flee. It was still dark, there were only two or three hours to go before dawn, and though they needed to get moving, most didn’t seem to want to go much further. In fact, it looked as though they were intending to remain there and wait to be recaptured.
The escapees looked like a picture of human wretchedness. They were exhausted and broken. Even the hamadryads who couldn't have been in the dungeon more than a week. There were hundreds of escapees. None however seemed strong enough to stand. It looked as though his plan of following the hamadryads back to their home to learn about their magic had failed before it had even begun.
Thorm collapsed to the ground and lay there waiting. Praying that eventually they would get up and continue to flee. If they did he would try to help by covering their tracks and keeping the soldiers who would come after them away. But unless they found the strength and will to do that, he could do nothing for them.
All he could do was lie there, watching them, and offer a prayer to the Seven Sisters. So that was what he did.
Eventually his prayers must have been heard. Because as he lay there watching and waiting for the dawn and the soldiers to come riding out and recapture them, he saw one or two of them get to their feet. They still looked exhausted. Beaten and broken. Some showed signs of torture and crippling injuries. But at least they were standing. And if they could stand he thought, then surely they could walk. At least a little. They had to.
It took time. Too much time. But eventually some of them started doing just that. They headed off – but in different directions. Some returned to the river and let it carry them further away. Some actually headed back to the city. The largest group however turned and headed south for the distant trees. They had to be the hamadryads he thought. They were heading for their home. But they weren't alone. Clearly others had decided to accompany them. It made sense for the group to stay together, he thought. He would have done the same in their position.
Seeing them leave, however slowly, brought him some hope. But it also revealed an unexpected problem. This entire region surrounding the city was covered in wild grasslands only fit for goats to graze. There were tussocks and reeds everywhere, most of them standing as high as a man's waist. The spear-grasses and witch hazel stood even taller. And while that didn't make the terrain particularly difficult to cross, it did mean the escapees were leaving an obvious trail behind them in the form of flattened grasses. In fact, with the best part of a hundred people in the larger group, the trail was so wide that it could be mistaken for a road. And if he could see it at night, then by daylight every soldier that came after them would know exactly where to look for them.
He had to find a way to cover their tracks.
He gave a silent prayer to Pristia, the Sister of Reason, as he considered the problem. If ever he needed her wisdom it was just then.
Thorm considered the problem carefully. Logically there were only a few ways to hide their trail. It would be best if he could cause the grass to spring back and grow as it once had after they'd passed. Unfortunately, even if he had the time he didn’t have the magic. Then of course there was fire. A good blaze could conceal a multitude of things. But he quickly discounted the idea. Starting a grasslands fire was dangerous and he could well end up killing the people he was trying to save. Besides which, he was still uncomfortably aware that he had destroyed an entire city block only a few years before. He didn't want to destroy anything more. That left only one other option; to confuse their trail by creating many more. Now that was something he could do. Although he didn't know how effective it would be.
Thorm waited a good couple of hours before beginning work, making sure that the escapees had got as far away as possible, and that the riverbank in front of him was empty. Then he stood and called the magic of the wind to him and created a wind funnel.
It was a simple spell, but one he had not used in many years since it was normally of no use to him. Ever since he had been transformed and had had to start relearning his magic, he had been forced to concentrate only on those spells which were of use to him in his new life. That mostly meant magic that would help him to hide and move about unseen and open locks. This was not one of those spells. Still, it was not a complex spell, the words and the gestures were easy enough to hold in his thoughts, and soon he had a small wind funnel spinning around in front of him.
Seeing it there he tried to smile. He would have smiled too if his mouth had been able to form the expression. He would also have laughed, if he could have done anything other than growl whenever he tried. But that didn't matter. It was perfect. The small chaotically spinning mass of air, flattening the grasses in all directions. And then he let it go. Sending it out to criss-cross the land. Then he really did smile, though to anyone who saw him it would have looked as though he was hungry. But wherever it went it carved out a great arc in the long grasses. It looked for all the world like a trail. Thorm was more than pleased.
Seeing its success Thorm created a dozen more of the wind funnels, and sent them off in random directions, criss-crossing the huge expanse of grassland surrounding the Eternal City, and weaving a complicated pattern of trails that would defy even the most observant hunter's ability to work out which were the ones created by the escapees. It took some time but by the end he was satisfied that the soldiers who would be coming for them would not find it easy to give chase.
Next he decided he had to find a way to destroy the soldiers hunting dogs’ ability to track. And again it was a wind spell that solved the problem for him. Thorm called for a simple breeze. One heading south from the city in the direction the party was travelling. It was only a gentle breeze. But it was enough. Because it was only meant to weaken the trail of scents the dogs would follow. If the soldiers intended to use dogs to hunt them down as he expected, they would be slowed. The bloodhounds might be able to pick up the scents of the escaped prisoners on the ground at their feet, but they would not be able to pick up their scents from further away as the wind would be blowing the wrong way.
Still, it wasn't enough. He had to stop the soldiers from riding out at all if he could. And for that too wind would again be his ally.
He used one of his favourite spells – scent. He had used it many times over the previous years, because of its use in creating a disturbance. The scent of a wolf on the wind would send horses into a panic. The smell of a bitch in heat would have dogs barking crazily and straining against their leads. He had used both in the past, allowing him to sneak through the city streets almost unnoticed as the people struggled with their animals. This time he used both scents and then added all the strength he could to the magic, recasting the spell over and over again.
The result was everything he could have asked for. Within moments he heard the first of the dogs barking in the distance, and not long after that the entire city was howling so loudly that he could hear it clearly even half a league away. A few minutes later as he stood there he saw the first of the horses fleeing the city, some of them saddled, some not, but all of them riderless. Their owners and the stable hands soon gave chase, many running out through the main gates in various stages of undress. Even if they somehow caught the horses though, those animals would not be ridden any time soon. Nor would those still locked up inside the city. They would bolt the instant the chance presented itself. Any soldiers sent out after the escaped prisoners would either have to travel on foot or wait until the animals settled down. That could take a while.
Thorm stood there, pleased with his efforts. Not just because he knew he had confounded any attempts by the city's soldiers to give chase to the party for at least a day. But also because the magic had come so easily and proved so useful. He was not and would never be one of those ancient wizards of the bards' tales with their immense power to reshape the world. But he could still cast a useful spell.
Then unexpectedly his day became even better as the sky turned blue, and he realised that for the first time in years he was out in the open in daylight. He hadn't planned on it. But it didn't matter, because the understanding hit him like a stampeding herd of wild horses. He was free! Maybe he hadn't been locked away in a dungeon like those he had just helped escape. But in his own way he too had been trapped in a prison. But no more!
With unexpected joy singing in his heart, Thorm set off after the hamadryads, thinking that this day couldn't get any better. And yet even as he thought it he suddenly felt an unexpected warmth of the sun on his back and felt even better. How long had it been since he had last felt the sun shining down on him?
Truthfully, he knew the chances of his learning much from the hamadryads was small. The chance of his finding a way to be restored to his proper form were smaller again. But he was out in the open with the sun shining down on him. And his magic was growing ever more useful. All in all it was a great day.
Chapter Seven
Maybe his plan hadn't been so clever after all Thorm thought as he lay on his belly, concealed in some scrub, spying on the hamadryads. Because despite all his hopes they weren't talking about anything useful like magic. They weren't talking about much at all. And when they did speak it was mostly about practical matters like food and shelter and whether they were being followed.
They were of course being followed – by him at least. But as far as he could be tell, no soldiers were on their trail. Not yet anyway. He had done his best to make sure of that with his various spells, and then he'd paused at the tree line just to make sure. While the last of the escapees had walked on he had stayed back and kept a vigilant eye on the Eternal City.
