Wildcard 11

"There's a roadside inn up ahead," Kalten said as the long day's ride was settling into evening. "Do we chance it?"

The horses' strength was flagging, now, clearly in need of feed, water, and rest. Sparhawk took the opportunity to pull up next to Sephrenia. "Will we be safe to stop here?"

"Only for a few hours," she said. "Just long enough to feed the horses and give them some rest. The Seeker knows we're not with the column by now, and it's certain to be following our trail. We can't linger here."

"Do we have time for supper, at least?" asked Kalten plaintively. "Sparhawk's stomach is scaring the horses."

Sparhawk snorted. "I could go for a few more hours yet without eating," he said indifferently. After a moment, he added, "I haven't actually been hungry all day, now that I think about it."

"Do you feel ill?" Sephrenia asked with concern.

"No. Not weak, nor more tired than after any long day of riding. I just don't feel like I need to eat."

Sephrenia examined his face, his hands, and his eyes for a few seconds. "... If I didn't know better, I'd never have guessed you hadn't eaten all day," she said thoughtfully. "When was the last time you ate?"

Sparhawk briefly took note of Flute slipping from the saddle in front of Sephrenia to run into the grass. "Last night. The fig that Anthony created."

Kalten scowled. "A fig? That's all you ate, some measly little fig?"

"It was a very good fig," Sparhawk said.

Sephrenia hummed to herself, lips pursed tightly. "I am starting to wonder about that man," she admitted. "If that single fig is able to sustain you for a full day of exercise, it's a remarkable magic."

"It would make our lives easier if it worked on horses," Kurik said, leading the spare horses up alongside the rest of them. "We should see if that inn has any spare oats or hay to sell us, enough to last for a few days."

"Hay won't be much use without a cart to carry it," Sparhawk disagreed. "And with that Seeker pursuing us, if we can't afford more than a few hours here, we definitely can't afford to be slowed down hauling a cart."

"I'd hoped for us to rely more on forage." Kurik's expression was a disgruntled one.

"We'll manage, Kurik," Sephrenia said.

"The HORSES will manage," Kalten complained, "and Sparhawk will manage, but right now, I need food and maybe a couple hours of sleep. We could ALL use that sleep, for that matter, given last night was interrupted, and we've been on the move since before sunup."

The inn was run by a thin, cheerful man and his plump, jolly wife. It was a comfortable place and meticulously clean. The broad fireplace at one end of the common room did not smoke, and there were fresh rushes spread on the floor.

"We don't see many city folk this far out," the innkeeper commented as he set the platter of roast beef on the table. "Especially seldom knights. What brings you this way, my Lords?"

"We're on our way to Pelosia," Kalten lied smoothly, helping himself easily to a couple of large slices of rare beef, the juices running down the sides of the small pile of chopped, roasted potatoes he'd already served himself. "Church business. We're in a hurry, so we decided to cut across."

"There's a road that runs on up into Pelosia about three leagues South of us," the innkeeper said helpfully.

"Roads wander a lot, following the easiest path," Kalten said, cutting a slice of beef and popping the bite into his mouth. Around the mouthful, he added, "And, as I m'ntioned, we're 'n a h'rry."

"Anything interesting happening hereabouts?" Tynian chipped in casually, as Kalten began to dig into his meal in earnest.

The innkeeper laughed wryly. "Little enough happens out here; the local farmers can stretch six months of chatter out of a cow that died in the spring." He drew up a chair and took a seat uninvited, sighing. "I used to live in Cimmura when I was a young man. Something was always happening; I miss the excitement of it."

"What made you decide to move out here?" Kalten asked, spearing another slice of beef with his dagger.

"My father left me this place when he died. Nobody wanted to buy it, so I didn't have much choice." The innkeeper frowned slightly. "Now that I think about it, though," he said, returning to the previous topic, "there has been something a little unusual happening around here for the last few months. Roving bands of Styrics, the countryside's been crawling with them. Struck me as a bit odd, since I've never heard of Styrics moving around all that much."

"We don't, as a rule," Sephrenia said. "We're not a nomadic people."

"I thought you might be Styric," the man said with a nod. "Judging by your looks and your clothes, anyway. We've a Styric village not far from here. Nice enough people, a little standoffish." He put on a thoughtul expression, sitting back in his chair. "If you wouldn't mind a little advice? I think you Styrics might avoid a lot of the trouble that breaks out from time to time if you'd just mingle with your neighbors more, let them get to know you better."

"It's not our way," Sephrenia disagreed. "I don't believe Elenes and Styrics are supposed to mingle."

"Maybe you're right," he said. "Not my place to say."

"Are these wandering Styrics doing anything in particular?" Sparhawk asked casually from where he sat by the fire, looking out the window.

"Asking questions, is about all. They seemed mighty curious about the Zemoch war, for some reason." He rose to his feet. "Enjoy your supper," he said, heading back to the kitchen.

"We have a problem," Sephrenia said quietly in a grave tone. "Western Styrics do not wander about the countryside. Our Gods prefer to have us stay close to their altars."

"Zemochs, then?" Bevier surmised.

"Almost certainly."

"When I was in Lamorkand, there were reports of Zemochs infiltrating the country East of Motera," Kalten said, before popping the last bite of his potatoes in his mouth. "They were doing the same thing. Asking questions, wandering about, mostly interested in local folklore."

"Azash must have a plan similar to ours, then," Sephrenia said. "He's trying to gather information that will lead us to Bhelliom."

"A race, then," Kalten sighed, wiping his dagger clean and sheathing it.

"And he has a head start," Sephrenia replied with a nod.

"Zemochs ahead of us, church soldiers behind," Ulath added. "You've gone and gotten us surrounded, Sparhawk." He looked to Sephrenia. "Could the Seeker be controlling those Zemochs the same way it's controlling the soldiers? We might be riding into an ambush."

"I'm not completely certain," she admitted. "I've heard a great deal about Seekers, but I've never personally encountered one."

"You didn't have time to be that specific this morning," Sparhawk noted, moving his chair a bit closer to the table. "Exactly how is that thing controlling Annias' soldiers?"

"It's venomous," she said. "Its bite paralyzes the will of its prey - or its thralls."

"I'll make a point of not letting it bite me, then," Kalten commented.

"You may not be able to stop it," she told him. "That green glow is hypnotic. That makes it easier for it to get close enough to inject the venom."

"How fast can it fly?" Tynian asked.

"At this stage of life, it doesn't. It's still immature; its wings won't be functional until it becomes an adult. Besides, it needs to be on the ground to follow a scent trail. Ordinarily, to cover long distances it travels on horseback, and since the horse is controlled the same way people are, the Seeker rides the animal to death, and then finds another. It can quickly cover vast distances that way."

"What does it eat?" asked Kurik. "Maybe we can set a trap for it."

"It feeds predominantly on humans," Sephrenia answered.

"That would make baiting the trap difficult," Kurik said with a frown.

Sparhawk thought back to Anthony again. In particular, his restrictions. To always help others even at personal risk, or something like that? "Sephrenia, what was it Anthony said about his restrictions?"

"Which one? He had quite a few of them."

"The one about goodness, or helping people."

Talen cleared his throat. "'That I must conform to a standard of behavior that promotes goodness and wellbeing of others, that I never allow evil to be commited unchallenged in my presence nor act in a way that hinders good acts, that I protect the innocent, even to the point of challenging authority and defying cruel or unjust laws'," he recited, his voice and inflections even sounding a little reminiscent of Anthony's.

"I keep forgetting you can do that," Kalten commented.

"Why do you ask?" Sephrenia questioned, looking at Sparhawk.

Sparhawk grimaced. "... That Seeker. Even if we double back, it's likely to find its way here. And even if it doesn't, it's going to be a scourge across the countryside for anyone it encounters. People will die. Many of them."

"Yes, yes they will," she said. "And we're in no position to do much but outrun it long enough to lose it; all it needs to do for Otha to win is simply delay us while the Zemochs continue their work. If it truly is time for the Bhelliom to reemerge into the world again, they're close to finding it. We can't afford to turn and chase the Seeker through the Eosian countryside; we don't have the time to spare."

"But this creature can afford to ride any number of horses to death to chase us, or escape from us," Kalten said. "How do we expect to lose it?"

"We can lose it cutting across the River Arruk," she replied. "It can't follow our scent across water. We can ride a league or two up or down river, and it will have to attempt to pick up our trail going up and down the river without knowing exactly where we crossed. But that only works if we stay far enough ahead of it, out of its line of sight, to do it."

"What about the River Cimmura? That's a lot closer."

"It runs parallel to the direction we're going, or close enough to it. The Seeker would just have to follow the river until it picked up our scent again. It would have to be Arruk; it's the only major river in our path that runs crossways for long enough to actually shake it."

There was a long moment of silence. "Sephrenia... that's nearly a hundred leagues away," Sparhawk said slowly.

"I am well aware."

"We can't keep up this pace for that long. We can't keep it up for even a third of that; the horses will never make it."

"Do you have a better idea?" she asked waspishly.

"We stand and kill it," Kalten suggested.

"It's infused with the spirit of Azash," she explained to him, slowly, like he was a child. "Even diminished by His distance and proxy, it is more powerful than any force of arms at our disposal."

"Then we're helpless against it?" Berit asked.

"No. But I don't have what I'd need to kill it on hand, and barring somehow pinning it in place, it likely wouldn't work anyway."

"What do you need?" Sparhawk asked.

"Pitch. Naphtha. About a bucket of each. I can conjure the rest."

"That sounds dreadfully sticky, if it's going to be mixed together," Tynian observed.

"Perhaps, but its flammability is what's important."

"Didn't you say the Seeker was immune to fire?" Bevier asked.

"It is," she agreed, "but it's not immune to the smoke. To humans, the smoke this mixture would produce is nauseating and disorienting, but humans can hold their breath and escape it readily enough. The Seeker has a different breathing apparatus, and is incapable of holding its breath. To the Seeker the smoke is much more toxic, and ultimately fatal if it breathes enough of it."

"But it has to stick around long enough to breathe enough of it," Kalten said, "and that's the real reason it's always on horseback, isn't it? To be able to escape fast enough from what actually can hurt it."

"It sounds to me," Ulath opined carefully, "that what we need is a valley, a rock slide, and several hours time to set up."

"And pitch and naphtha," added Sephrenia. "That... sounds like it could work."

"Too bad we didn't go further north to Cimmura River," said Kalten. "Even if we couldn't shake it, following the river would have led us right to the mountains near Cardos. Would have been easy to set that up there."

"Aren't there any other mountains that could serve in the direction we're already going?" asked Tynian.

"Sure, further up the Arruk River," Kalten said. "A lot further. Halfway to Alaris, and I'm not sure there's any valleys between them that would be deep enough or step enough to work."

"So we're back to keeping ahead of the Seeker, then?" Kurik asked. "Because if so, we might need to pick up some extra draft horses and lighten our gear as we ride."

"Lighten our gear, as in pack up our chain mail?" Sparhawk clarified. "Absolutely not. There's no real reason that Annias couldn't have sent word ahead to keep an eye out for us, and I'm none too keen on running unarmored into a group of Arruk church soldiers just because we're trying to outrun the Seeker and [i]its[/i] church soldiers. We're just going to have to deal with the hand we were dealt."

"Not every hand is a winning hand, Sparhawk."

"Not every player at the table knows when another player doesn't have a winning hand, Kurik."