Colony worlds, p.10
Colony Worlds, page 10
Aderic often wondered why they’d bothered leaving the Abbey. Wylie was no closer to reaching Deep Creek and he was no closer to revenging his parents. He should get serious about taking Wylie home, but east was the dry empty route he’d taken to Thornton Abbey, skirting along the edge of an enormous grass sea they’d have to cross to reach Deep Creek.
He was about to tell Wylie he’d decided on a different direction tomorrow, when his sensitive nostrils caught a whiff of smoke. A scan of the treetops located a thick wavy column from a green twig fire. He estimated it was half a mile away, but dusk was upon them and Wylie objected. Aderic convinced him by saying their fellow bushranger might have food. The big lad was always hungry.
Following the sweet smell of pine smoke led them across a gentle wooded slope to a small, grassed clearing, the flattened remains of a collapsed warren, a few burrow outlines still visible. Despite the slope’s gentleness, the interruption of a flat clearing made for a perfect campsite. Aderic saw the sword first, propped against the bluff, a bulging pack beside it. Considering the artistry of the tooled scabbard and the large gem embedded in the hilt, both were expensive. The idiot uplander, asleep on the opposite side of the fire, wouldn’t reach it, even if Aderic kicked him awake.
Aderic, needing to replace his ageing knife, went straight for the sword, Wylie straight to the backpack for food.
“Oops,” Wylie said.
The man they were robbing startled awake, rolled away in panic, straight over the edge.
Aderic stifled a laugh as he watched Wylie fiddling with the jar he’d dropped. It had hit a rock, popped the lid, spilling silvery dust in the dirt. “What did you drop it for?”
“Be nice Wolfy. You said I could thump ...”
“Forget it. What is that stuff?” he asked, his tone conciliatory.
Wylie looked at the sparkling grains in the dirt, “I don’t know, Wolfy.”
Aderic returned his attention to the sword, which looked promising. The blade whispered sweetly as he slipped it from the scabbard. Inscribed on the blade were the words Severne’s Bane, identical to the name tooled into the scabbard. “If we can find a buyer, the jewel alone will fetch a fortune.”
“My sword,” Wylie said, his voice tinged with awe.
“Pig’s arse. You never got one.”
Wylie replaced the jar in the pack and looked towards clearing’s edge. “We shouldn’t be robbing him, Wolfy, not a warrior.”
“He can’t be a warrior and have hair.”
“He had my sword.”
“A sword; not your sword,” Aderic said, watching Wylie’s frown deepen. Wylie’s frown was a sure sign of trouble. It meant his long arduous thought processes had ended in a decision. Aderic could comply, or Wylie would thump him. He put the sheathed sword back against the bluff.
“He can’t have gone far,” Aderic said after a long pause, and saw Wylie’s frown instantly smooth out. “Let’s have a look.”
They peered over the edge. The man lay on his back, tangled in thorny undergrowth, glaring at them, his fury instantly changing into shock.
“Wylie?”
“Hello,” Wylie said, and scrambled over the edge to help the bloke.
Aderic looked from one to the other, noting Wylie’s expression when he looked at the newcomer, held no recognition. Aderic’s father had told him Our Lady’s Test was the same the world over, yet despite this bloke’s startlingly different eyes, he still had his hair, which meant unlike poor Wylie, the Goddess hadn’t tested him, so how did he get a named sword?
Ignoring Aderic the bloke asked Wylie how he got here, which amused Aderic who at home had wanted everyone to ignore him.
Wylie help the man hobble over to his pack against the small bluff. Aderic remained unconvinced the sword belonged to the uplander.
“What happened to you, Wylie?” the bloke said, his gaze on Wylie’s face.
Aderic decided it was time he got involved.
“That’s twice you’ve named him candidate.”
“We grew up together in Deep Creek, thousands of ...”
Shit, he does know him. The unbelievable coincidence staggered Aderic. How in Severne’s Eye, was it remotely possible, that in this vast empty wilderness, they would run into someone who knew Wylie—unless the Goddess arranged it. Since Aderic knew he’d chosen his and Wylie’s path, the Goddess must have put this bloke in their way, but why?
“... last time I saw him was a few days before his test. I’m Willard,” he added, his gaze back on Wylie, presumably looking for a reaction.
Wylie simply smiled.
With a disappointed look, the bloke calling himself Willard shifted his gaze to Aderic, wiped his palm on his trousers and extended his hand, bent up at the wrist, fingers and thumb straight together.
Aderic ignored it, though he watched avidly as Wylie reciprocated, touching Willard’s fingers. The gesture reinforced for Aderic that he was the outsider in the uplands.
“How did he get here? What happened to him?”
“I would’ve thought it bloody obvious. There’s not a lot going on upstairs with your Wylie. He failed the big test. Show him your scar Wylie.”
Wylie turned his hairless head.
Aderic spat. “Fried his brain, poor bugger.” He drew a measure of satisfaction in causing Willard additional shock. “I guess they forgot to mention that at candidate school. The big test separating the men from the boys can turn your brain to jelly.”
Willard’s shoulders slumped, and, and his shirt fell open.
Aderic saw a talisman on Willard’s chest. “You, my friend, are a mystery. An untested candidate with a named sword, and a talisman, is not believable.”
Willard glanced at the sword.
“Don’t even think it,” said Aderic, “killing you would be less trouble than holding you for ransom. But my half-wit friend thinks a named sword makes you special, but I wonder how you came by it—and a talisman.”
“The G ...,” Willard started saying, paused, then restarted. “Our Lady gave them to me.”
In one blindingly swift move, Aderic was across the fire holding his knife to Willard’s throat. “Don’t shit me boy, the one thing I can’t stand is a liar. Why would the Goddess give a named sword without testing you? What did you do, stumble on a dead warrior?”
At Aderic’s mention of the Goddess, Wylie looked skywards and chanted, “I want to go home, Dear Lady.”
When he stopped chanting, Aderic noticed his gaze had shifted focus to the knife at Willard’s throat and he was frowning, as if trying to understand something just out of reach.
“You can’t do that, Wolfy. He brought me my sword. If you hurt him, I will have to thump you.”
Aderic’s gaze darted between Willard, his head canted as if listening, and Wylie flexing his fingers.
“I’m not hurting him idiot, just scaring up some truth,” Aderic said, but he backed off, resigning himself to losing the magnificent sword.
Wylie beamed him an expression of pure joy.
With his head tilted up and his lips moving, the pretend warrior seemed in conversation with the Goddess. Either that or he’s a damn good actor.
Wylie smiled and extended his hand to Willard. “Will you be my friend? I can have two friends, can’t I?”
The pretend warrior looked pained. “Yes Wylie,” he said.
Wylie nodded at him vigorously, “I ate some food,” he said.
“I forgive you.”
Wylie beamed.
Aderic grunted and spat, “How kind of you.”
“Where are you from ... Wolfy?” Willard asked.
“Wolfy’s a feral,” Wylie interjected.
“The name’s Aderic, and with this face, it should be bloody obvious,” he said, spitting into the fire, watching it sizzle on an ember.
“I was being polite.”
“Staring is not polite.”
“I didn’t mean to, but you must admit you have an interesting face.”
Aderic nearly choked with laughter. “That’s a first. Of the many and varied derogatory terms used to describe my face, interesting is not among them.”
With his head tilted, Willard said, “Our Lady has offered you sanctuary in Mount Bakor and I would take you myself, but I just left.” She will help Wylie guide you and someone will meet you at the servatory.
With that comment, Aderic realised he’d been right about the Goddess arranging this meeting
“You said the Goddess you pretend to talk with gave you the sword. Prove it, and I might start believing you.”
“What proof would you accept?”
Wylie snatched the scabbard, slid out Severne’s Bane and handed it to Willard before Aderic could object.
The gem glowed the moment Willard’s hand curled around the hilt.
“Here, give me that,” Aderic said. He stepped over the embers, grabbed the cross-guard, giving Willard a snarly bared-teeth profile for good measure.
Wylie frowned.
Willard hesitated, with his head tilted, before releasing his grip. The gem went dull as soon as his fingers left the hilt.
Aderic raised Severne’s Bane to the vertical and squeezed until his hand shook. The gem stayed dull. The stories his father must be true, a named sword only works for the warrior the Goddess gave it to, except Willard wasn’t a warrior. Aderic looked again at those startling eyes, the abundant hair, and the named sword. This bloke must be special. He handed the sword back, hilt first.
Willard titled it upright and squeezed. The edges crackled with sparks and a thin beam erupted from the tip. A bird squawked, flying away as a branch fell with a crash, its neatly severed end smoking, adding to the acrid smell from the blade’s sparks.
Aderic shook his head but his words acknowledged Willard’s claim. “Mount Bakor you say. Fine, but if you think this brain dead ... Wylie here, can lead the way, you’re are dumber than he looks.”
“Let me, Wolfy, please let me. Our Lady calls me.”
Aderic continued addressing Willard. “He can’t communicate with the Goddess; her devotees removed his implant.”
“You may not trust Our Lady, but Wylie does.”
“And that’s supposed to be enough?”
“Yes,” Willard said, but Aderic saw scepticism in his expression.
Wylie nodded vigorously. “Our Lady will lead me Wolfy. You’ll see.”
Aderic found Wylie’s confidence ironic. Of the three of them, only Wylie believed what he was saying, for despite everything Aderic had said, he now believed the Goddess had arranged this meeting solely to get Wylie to Mount Bakor.
5 Wylie
When Wylie woke, his new friend had gone, taking his sword and his green robe. Wolfy sat by the relit fire, roasting a bird.
“Complements of your mate’s sword,” Wolfy said, “the branch wasn’t all it felled last night.”
Wylie’s share was a single mouthful. “I’m still hungry, Wolfy.”
“Then the sooner we get to Mount Bakor, the sooner we get a decent feed.”
“Okey-dokey,” Wylie said, looking around for a sign from Our Lady.
“Well, what are you waiting for, sawdust brain, help from above? You won’t get any without your implant. I know the Goddess will lead you there, but I have no idea how.”
Wylie didn’t understand half of what Wolfy said, but he liked him talking. It felt less lonely. “There,” he said, spotting a rabbit.
Aderic looked where he pointed. “Ah. Lunch.” he said, squatting, his eyes on the rabbit, his hand searching the ground.
Wylie gulped, knowing Wolfy was fast and true at throwing things and would hit Our Lady’s rabbit. He jiggled from one foot to the other as if desperate to pee. He didn’t want to thump Wolfy, but he couldn’t let Wolfy hurt Our Lady’s guide.
“Be still I said. Lucky for you, your antics haven’t scared it off,” Aderic said, arm poised above his shoulder.
Wylie clenched his fist. “You can’t, Wolfy.”
“What?”
“Not one of Our Lady’s little creatures.”
“We are all Our Lady little creatures us bigger ones eat her smaller ones,” Wolfy said
Wylie thumped Wolfy’s shoulder as he threw, yet as Wylie predicted, the throw was true and would’ve hit Our Lady’s rabbit had it not hopped aside.
Like the rabbit, Aderic hopped around too, cursing and holding his shoulder, while his target’s glowing red eyes stared at them.
“See,” said Wylie. His smile broadened as he walked towards the rabbit, which hopped away in a long straight line for about a hundred steps, then stopped to let him catch up. Sensing Wolfy hadn’t followed, Wylie turned and found him sitting on the ground saying rude words. He went over to help him up. “I’m sorry, Wolfy, we can’t eat our guide.”
Aderic pushed his help aside. “You stupid fucking idiot. You could have killed me for nothing. Her bloody rabbit can take care of itself.”
“Come on, Wolfy, I’m going home.”
Still fuming Aderic followed.
Our Lady’s rabbit kept twenty paces ahead, drawing Wylie deeper into the forest, when he’d rather stop and look for food. The splash and gurgle of a river close by reminded him of Deep Creek. Listening to the creek sounds, he didn’t feel so hungry. He missed Wolfy talking to him, but Wolfy was still hurting.
As darkness approach, the rabbit led them to a clearing, an ideal riverside campsite and stopped beside a freshly killed duck.
“See Wolfy, Our Lady likes me.”
Wolfy said nothing. He just sat on the bank, cradling his head.
* * *
Wylie woke refreshed and looked around for his guide but couldn’t find Our Lady’s red eyed rabbit. While he waited, a bird landed on his shoulder, but before he could check its eyes, it shat and flew away. A smelly white line ran down Wylie’s shirt.
Aderic erupted in laughter behind him. “Our Goddess has a sense of humour. I guess rabbit’s back on the menu.”
Wylie smiled. His world was perfect again. When he got Wolfy to Our Lady’s sanctuary on the baker’s mountain, he could go home. He hoped the baker made good food he was hungry.
“No Wolfy, he’s still our guide,” Wylie said, pointing at a pair of red eyes emerging from a burrow.
They followed the rabbit day after day, higher into the mountains, the path becoming steeper, the air cooler, the trees sparse. Aderic’s smiles got bigger. “I think I’m going to like Mount Bakor.”
“You will Wolfy, Our Lady is there.”
“I’m talking about this place ding-dong. These mountains remind me of home. I’m not so sure about the Goddess or her chosen people. Thornton Abbey’s undies weren’t as pleasant as you think.”
“They were nice to me, even when they make me empty their potties.”
Aderic chuckled at that, and Wylie’s smile became a grin. He liked Wolfy happy.
* * *
Their guide disappeared as soon as they stepped out of the trees onto a high plateau. An imposing Builder edifice stood at one end. A mixed mob of sheep and goats grazed the meadow in front of it. Although the air was cool, the sun blazed from a cloudless sky.
“Looks like a change of diet,” Wolfy said, looking at him for approval.
Wylie wasn’t sure. A dog barked and ran towards them. Wylie crouched to pat it, but it stopped when it saw Wolfy and snarled.
Wolfy snarled back. The dog yelped and ran towards two men who stepped out of the building’s shadow.
The older man strode over, leaving the younger to calm the dog. “I’m Edwy, you must be Wylie and Aderic,” he said and touched fingers with Wylie.
“Is this it?” Aderic said, pointing at the building. “Where’s the town?”
“Nelda warned us you were belligerent. Please desist, but to answer your question, this building was once our servatory, but Our Lady’s servers abandoned it long before I was born. Our village is down by the lake.”
Though Edwy talked to both, Wylie could tell his words were for Wolfy. “I came to take you to our tower. My son, Thane, will mind the flock until I return.” He waved to Thane and started across the meadow to a path down the mountain, bowing to a rock as he passed.
Wylie nudged Aderic, “It’s your sanctuary too, Wolfy.”
“The children will probably stare at first,” Edwy said, “You’re a big lad Wylie.”
Wylie hoped Wolfy liked the baker’s village. A young girl with dark curly hair met them at the tower door. She was half his size, but her smile was big.
“Hello Wylie, I’m Nelda. I act as server here.”
What a lovely place. Having a lady server is a lot better than having Ser Clive.
Nelda turned to Aderic. “You too are welcome, Aderic of the Forests. Our Lady is expecting you both. Her Oracle is this way.”
“I’m glad to hear it, and despite not being exactly sure about coming, I have a few questions. The bloke who sent us was several rungs short of a usable ladder.”
Wylie saw Ser Nelda give Wolfy a funny look and supposed she didn’t understand Wolfy any more than he did.
“He lay the wrong side of a badly built fire, with his sword out of reach; I could’ve killed him in his sleep.”
“Lord Willard!” Nelda said.
Her voice sounded as surprised as Wolfy looked.
“Lord Willard,” Wolfy said, almost shouting lord. “Well, I’ll be ...”
“Be what, Wolfy?” asked Wylie but Nelda had captured him, and was talking excitedly. Wylie followed, listening. She had a lovely voice.
“Lord Willard may be the Face Our Lady needs to walk among us. He saved my life when I broke my back on the mountain and then removed a scar I’d had since birth.” She showed him an unblemished hand.
“I’ll take your word for it,” Aderic said.
“Ask anyone. They’ll say the same.”
Ser Nelda led them through a maze of passages with light green walls smelling like the cleaning stuff they used on Ser Clive’s night can. She trod so lightly on bare feet Wylie thought she was gliding, but that couldn’t be right: the floor wasn’t slippery, although smoother than the rough stone floors and wooden walls of the Abbey. Now and again, he missed Sherlock. They arrived at a room full of twinkling lights, evoking a memory. “My testing room, Wolfy,” he said.
