Son of the Hero

"Parthet, could you help with this?" I was still groping in the dark, but Dad had made me study all that military jazz. I knew the words, the concepts, even if I had never had to apply them in real life.

"If the circumstances are right. I need light to work, but the more light, the more difficult the problem. I'll study on it while we ride."

We rode. Precarra Forest thi

"That deeper line of green in the distance." Lesh pointed and moved his arm to show the line he meant. "Unless I'm mistaken, that's the Borerun. The river bends our way, then returns to Dorthin. It runs north to the Eastern Sea east of Xayber. We fought a battle at the bend over this way when I was just a young soldier. My first campaign it were. We had to retreat when the old Etevar's wizard turned the river out of its banks against us."

"Maybe we'll get something back on the new Etevar tonight or tomorrow," I said, starting back down the slope.

"Maybe we will, lord," Lesh said.

I shook my head, very casually. None of my companions had expressed any reservations about the sanity of our mission or the fact that an utter rookie was going in to attempt something that the seasoned veterans had apparently failed to manage. Maybe there was nothing remarkable about the situation in the buffer zone. Parthet had told me that Dad had regularly done "Hero work" through the years, that there was more call for it than I might imagine. And half the time, I accepted the idea that it was natural for me to be doing this. That was enough to send ominous shivers up my spine the other half of the time.

Lesh was solid, ready to take on any challenge. Timon seemed eager for the adventure, whatever it might involve. And Uncle Parthet-when he showed any feeling at all about it-seemed to regard our mission as a chance for his own vindication as a wizard. If he worried about Mom and Dad, and I'm not saying that he didn't, he hid it well.

We rode on again into an area of old primary forest, straight, tall trees with little undergrowth. The canopy overhead filtered the light, casting deep greens. The occasional shaft of late-afternoon sunlight stood out in sharp relief like a spotlight beam. Parthet seemed buried inside himself. His horse followed mine without guidance. Glory was an old campaigner. Parthet didn't even respond to my questions, so I finally quit trying. I guessed that he was deep in some magic, probably trying to contact Mother. Either that or he was dozing.

"Another hour to sunset," Lesh said when we reached the end of the tall timber. "If we're going on to Thyme tonight, maybe we should rest our horses a bit now. And maybe have another bite." I nodded, and we dismounted, Parthet last. He didn't seem to notice that we stopped at first.

"You look troubled," I said when Parthet finally got down from Glory. Parthet wouldn't meet my eyes at first. "You've learned something," I said. What is it?"

"Nothing certain, lad," he whispered, none too calmly. "I still can't make firm contact with your mother, but there is an agony in the air that eats at my mind. It's too vague to know what it means." He turned to look north. According to Lesh, Thyme was almost directly due north of us now.

"I fear the worst," Parthet said, "but I fear my fears even more."

Lesh and Timon tended the horses. I stared at Parthet's back. He walked a few steps toward the final rank of lofty trees.

"If my fears were true, there could be no way for me to catch them. But if they aren't true, there's a rare deception in the wind, a more powerful magic than my own."

"At Castle Thyme?"

"Somewhere near for it to be so strong." He turned and stared blankly at me. He was far enough away that my features were probably only a blur to him. "Why are we stopped?" He looked around and blinked, coming back from wherever his mind had wandered.

"To rest the horses so we can push on this evening," I said.

Lesh came to us. "In two miles or so, the road turns east and climbs toward higher ground, bending back north. Castle Thyme sits atop a low mound on the west side of the road, perhaps four miles altogether from here."

"Can we cut cross-country and come from a way they won't expect?" I asked.

"The land around the castle offers little concealment up close," Lesh said. "There's naught but fields right around it."

"But they might have sentries watching this road at a distance, almost anywhere now," I said.

"The way overland is difficult at any time. It might take extra hours in the dark," Lesh said.

"Time, lad," Parthet whispered. His arms started to tremble. "We must make time now." He turned away before he added, "If time remains." I don't think he meant for me to hear that, but my hearing is quite sharp.

"We'll make time, but we still need a few minutes now," I said. Lesh handed me a strip of beef, and I started chewing on it. There was no stream handy, so we had to settle for the tepid water in our canteens-leather pouches that gave the water a bitter taste. We ate and stretched and took care of the other things that needed doing. I checked my weapons. I even turned away from the others to make sure that there was a shell in the chamber of my pistol. I think only Timon noticed the gun, and he might not have known what it was. Timon had the metal skullcap out. He offered it to me.

"Not yet," I told him. "I've got my lucky hat." I adjusted the blue Cubs cap, pulling the brim a little lower.

"Lucky?" Parthet asked from behind. I turned. The old man could sure move silently enough when he wanted to. "Lucky? How many championships have they won in the last fifty years?"

I hate questions like that. "What happened to the last guy who wore this tin pot?" I asked. Parthet didn't have the answer, but Lesh did.

"He got an arrow through the throat."

"I rest my case," I said.

"Pardon me, Highness," Lesh said, "but cloth won't turn a sword blade. I think you should wear the helmet." He rapped his knuckles against his own. "It might save your life."

"We'll see when we get there," I said, to cut off the discussion. I had no intention of wearing another five pounds. Dad and I always emphasized speed, movement, for defense. Every ounce of weight slowed me. The mail shirt. The shield I hadn't toted since I tried it on, back in Castle Basil.

After our short break, we hit the road at a trot. Riding back home, I always hated the trot. On an English saddle, that meant posting, going up and down like a yo-yo, meeting the horse in the middle. With a Western saddle, it meant sitting there and having your spine hammered. I was surprised to find the trot fairly comfortable on the huge charger Gold. All four horses seemed to find the change of pace refreshing. When we got into the clear, we even stretched them into an easy canter for a time, covering ground nicely. Then we slowed to a walk, changing the pace every couple of hundred yards.

We caught our first glimpse of Castle Thyme just be-fore sunset. It was still some distance off, visible briefly through a long valley. The road became wider, more traveled. A number of trails led off from it.

Then Parthet called, "Hold!" and reined in Glory.

The rest of us stopped and looked to the wizard for an explanation. Lesh had his spear at the ready, searching the land around us for any threat. Parthet stood in the saddle and looked off into a distance he couldn't see with his eyes. "This way," he said after a moment. He led the way off the road, west of north, cross-country after all.