She nodded as she considered and agreed. She said, “You’re right. And when the dragon returned to the cave a while ago, I think the mage fled into the Waystone, whatever that means, but he didn’t remain and face the dragon. He left. He can’t stand up to the dragon. Their power is limited.”
“The mages may not know you can identify them from a distance because they can’t do that to you. That’s important. We can use it. Still, he was there to set a trap for you—and the dragon scared him off. Probably he was to sit there and wait until he could locate and kill you. Or us. He may be traveling back and forth to set his trap, and on his last trip there, it was him that piled the stones upon the stairs. We may have barely missed him while he went home to get a good meal.”
We sat under damp blankets that steamed in the morning sunlight, neither of us talking anymore, but the blankets helped warm us a little. There was too much thinking to do and not much talking. Our horses browsed nearby for morsels of grass. The first morning travelers on the road passed us by without speaking, acting as if we were there to poison them if their wary glances and increased speed gave any indication. It was the first time we were treated in that manner, but it was as if they knew we drew danger to us.
The sunshine aside, it felt like the kind of day to wait for evening and hope a warm fire. Our minds were tired and dull, the continuing danger had worn on us more than physically, and while no present danger threatened, we were sure there was more to come.
The main thing for me was to remain quiet and keep still while Kendra figured it all out. She was the smart sibling. Here and there, I managed to contribute to our intellectual relationship, but she was always the smarter one, often allowing me to take credit for her quick mind as a consolation. She often foisted credit and success on me and away from her. It had always been that way.
She turned and said as if reading my mind, “You are stupid.”
Kendra might be right about that, but she seldom came right out and said it. “Me? Why?”
“You’re planning on sitting here under a wet blanket and shivering from cold until you get sick. There are no mages left in the kingdom to harm us. What we can enjoy is a morning ride on fine mounts. At the Port of Mercia, there is a warm, dry inn where we already have two rooms set aside for us, unlimited servings of hot food we will eat beside a roaring fireplace, and a little redheaded slip of a girl that can’t take her eyes off you.”
“We can race to town?”
She stood up and said, “There is no earthly reason to remain here and be miserable when we can do our planning in comfort.”
I whistled to attract Alexis’ attention. She also needed some warmth and food. I said, “Princess Elizabeth. We were going to meet her in Andover.”
“No, she was going to find us, remember? We were going to make it easier for her, but she will ask, and people will tell her where we went. But if nothing else, she will go to the destroyed city of Mercia to look at it, which means she will ride through the City Gate at the port and we’ll hear of her arrival and chase after her.”
The idea of the inn was perhaps the best Kendra had ever had. The moisture of the wet blanket had bled through to my shirt and then to my skin. My pants were wet. My hair hung in limp wetness and water dripped into my eyes making them sting. The world was wet. I was as cold as I’d ever been. The wind picked up, and the air felt even colder.
I helped her mount by holding the reins of her horse, and we rode, our heads bowed down to protect us from the wind directly in our faces as if it wished us to go the other way. My teeth chattered. I wanted something to put over Alexis’ face. I pulled the blanket over mine and closed my eyes. I rode blind, letting my horse pick the way.
The wind picked up, driving the rain almost parallel to the ground, the individual drops striking the bare skin on my face like pelting hail or pieces of sand thrown at me whenever I lowered the blanket to look ahead. The wet, wind and cold fought every step our horses took.
Later, I heard a startled child yelp in fear or pain. The oddity of the sound snapped me to attention, and my eyes opened. We’d ridden into a mother and two small girls with her who were struggling to walk in the same direction. They must not have heard us approaching in the howling wind as we came at them from behind. Kendra’s horse had bumped into the mother, and she had sprawled on the muddy road. A small child knelt beside her. Another watched from a few steps away.
We leaped off our horses and tried apologizing, but the woman simply picked herself up and encouraged her two girls to keep walking with a voice more dead than alive. Her eyes never looked at us. She told the girls to be strong, and all three tried pushing on.
The older girl was thin and limped with each step. She held her forearm in front of her eyes as she tried to move a few steps forward. She couldn’t continue. A blast of wind pushed her back several steps, but she gamely trudged ahead again without complaint. The youngest one was about six and almost as bad off as the other who was eight or nine.
I asked the mother, “Are you injured? Can you walk?”
“I’m fine,” she managed to say. “It’s them that can’t. They’re too young.”
Her intent was clear. Kendra gave me a nod. We could take the girls, one on each horse with us, and the mother could make it on her own. However, I didn’t believe it. The mother was struggling as bad, or worse than the girls. She was trying to send them on so they would live.
Our horses were struggling to stand in the rain and wind, lacking food, and mud sucking at their hooves at each step. They couldn’t carry all of us.
Kendra leaned close to my ear and yelled against the shrieking wind and driving rain, “Want to go for a walk?”
We placed the two girls on Alexis, the smaller one in front, and we pushed the mother up on Kendra’s horse despite their objections. Then we took the reins and walked. One step at a time, heads and bodies bent forward into the wind that pelted the tops of our heads. Now and then, I looked behind to make certain the little girls were still on the horse, finding them also leaning forward, their faces covered with my spare blanket. I took the lead.
Kendra followed Alexis and at times fell so far behind it was hard to see them. I trudged on, slower to allow them to catch up. Stopping was not an option, or I might not have the strength to continue. My legs ached and protested every step. Worst was my ears. They became wet and cold, and the wind tore at them. I pulled my collar so high a stranger would think me a part turtle.
Lightning split the sky. The girls screamed in fear, but weaker—or the increasing wind whipped the screams away and sent them back to Kendra.
The rumble of thunder followed, then another streak of lightning. My head was turned, and I saw the other horse and rider, but not Kendra with the reins.
I stopped and wondered as I waited, ready to rush back and rescue my sister. The horse was a shadow in the gloom and the sheets of rain. Letting go of Alexis to return was not possible. The horse might panic and race off with the girls.
The other horse pulled up beside me, and Kendra leaned down to shout at me. “She died. The mother died.”
I turned and walked without answering. One step. Two. The mother died and now what were we going to do? I didn’t know for the long term, but I did know that if we didn’t get out of the weather soon, we’d all die. There was no shelter, no houses, no hills or trees, and no gullies to hide in. We could return to Andover or continue on the Port of Mercia. Those were the only two choices. We were much closer to the port.