Aglahad and the Dead City (In Tharbad: Volume Three)

16

We broke camp just after dawn and made our way back to the beach where the ferry was tethered. As planned, Aglahad swam across the western channel with the rope that Lóni had spliced together. We loaded the mounts onto the ferry while Aglahad walked upriver towards a small oak tree. A heron appeared in the scrub there and hopped along the bank before taking off and drifting downriver.

Once he was done, the boy waved across the water and Lofar took up the slack while the rest of us shoved off. Soon we were moving out into midstream and Lofar let out the rest of the rope. The ferry drifted across the river to where the bank jutted steeply from the water.

"Pull us up," I called out but the boy was already reeling us in like a big fish.

Soon the ferry was alongside a muddy landing where the bank rose gently up towards the oak.

I waved at Aglahad. "Tie it off!"

After we'd led the mounts up onto the riverbank, we looked down on the ferry where we left it grounded. One of the cattle herders or fishers would come upon it soon enough. Aglahad had insisted on leaving a note explaining that the ferryman, Gaerion, had been murdered by a skin-changer and that the position was now vacant.

We rode southwest across pasture land and it wasn't long before we picked up the Old Dwarf Road. It was still in use near the river and well-maintained. We rode between the high double walls that were particular to this part of Lindon. They sloped away from the road and were filled in with earth and allowed to overgrow with grass and weeds and shrubs. The walls were largely unbroken but for the odd gateway to either side. But straight ahead, the blue line of the mountains was ever in our sight.

After seven leagues or so, a low stone wall marked the extent of the pasture and we passed through a dark timber gate. Beyond lay fields of potatoes and strawberries and mown tracts dotted with haystacks. Here, dark moss edged the road in the shadow of high brambles and hawthorn. A sky lark hovered, twittering above a field to the north.

Just after noon, the fields abruptly gave way to open heathland. Now the road was all but invisible under moss and mulch but the way ahead was still obvious. The mountains did not seem to be any closer.

The horses walked on. The road dipped and curved to the left around a steep outcrop then rose to a low hill. We paused at the brow; the road faded into the aeglos bushes and thick heather that stretched off into the west.

"What now?" Aglahad said.

"The road has been heading west of northwest since the river, as straight as a spear." Lóni said.

"If we keep our heading we should reach the pass," Lofar concluded.

"Easier said than done in this heather," Finduilas commented.

I stood in my stirrups and looked around. "We could follow that tracker's path there." It was little more than a line where the heather was not as thick.

"It seems to be going off to the southwest," Aglahad said.

The Ranger walked her horse on. "We have little choice."

We rode single file along the path for the rest of the afternoon. Finduilas led and I took up the rear. The path curved and dipped with the land but did not deviate too far from its south-westerly heading. As the sun started to lower towards the mountains, I reached into my tunic for the etching that Raindis had given to me.

I pulled on my reins and urged the others to rest. I unfolded and turned the crumpled parchment, glancing between it and the mountains.

"Do you recognise anything?" Aglahad said.