Captain's Fury (Page 84)

It wasn’t until their second day in the swamps that Amara saw that Bernard’s course had begun to waver. At first, it wasn’t by much, but as the days went by, Amara saw that his sighting of trees ahead and behind had become increasingly sloppy.

"Stop," Amara said, finally. "Bernard, let’s stop for a moment. I need to rest."

Bernard, who had been walking over a low hillock with the First Lord’s litter over one shoulder, settled the old man down gently and sank to the ground without a protest, his head bowed.

Amara frowned. He hadn’t checked the ground beneath him before he sat, something he had repeatedly emphasized as important during their first day in the swamp. Such places, he warned her, harbored a great many venomous serpents and insects with poisonous bites, and it could be worth as much as a man’s life to sit down upon or near one of them. Amara checked the ground around Bernard before she settled down, drew out her water bottle, and drank. She offered it to her husband. He drank as well.

"I need to talk to you," she said quietly.

He nodded without answering.

"I’ve been watching and… and I think your course is wavering."

Bernard frowned and looked up at her. Then he muttered under his breath, and asked, "Are you sure?"

Amara bit her lower lip, met her husband’s eyes, and nodded.

His expression became faintly confused, and he shook his head. "How much?"

"It’s hard for me to judge. We might be five or ten miles south of our original line of march."

He closed his eyes for a moment, then nodded. "I see."

She took his hand between hers. "Love. Tell me what’s wrong."

Bernard swallowed. He shook his head once. Flies and midges buzzed noisily about them. A rare breath of wind stirred the water at the base of the little hillock and set a dozen frogs to croaking.

Amara leaned closer, and kept her voice gentle. "Tell me, love."

"It’s m’eyes," he half whispered. "They’re not… they’re not focusing the way they should. Sometimes I have trouble trying to find the right marker to hold our course. But I thought I was getting it most of the time."

Amara felt her heart beat faster with nervous fear. "You did take a blow to the head, love. It can do things to a person’s vision until they’ve had time to recover."

"Yes," Bernard said. He looked up, squinting out at the swamps, then winced and pushed the heel of his hand hard against his head.

"Pain?" Amara asked.

He nodded. "Wasn’t much at first, but… it’s the light. Everything is too bright. It hurts to move my eyes around."

Amara leaned over and placed her wrist lightly over his forehead. "I’ve heard of some diseases that can do that, but you don’t have a fever."

"I feel fine," he growled, leaning a little away from her hand. "Except for my bloody head."

"That is generally considered to be something important," Amara said. "Even for men."

Bernard smiled faintly at the joke but didn’t lift his head. "If I’m not able to do this…" He shook his head. "If I can’t trust my eyes, there’s no help for it. You’ll have to take the lead until this has passed."

Amara frowned. "Are you sure?" she asked gently. "You told me that navigating through a swamp was no task for a novice."

"I’m sure that we haven’t got much choice," he replied. "You did well enough before."

Amara grimaced. "I’m not sure it will be as easy, here."

"No," Bernard said. "It won’t. So it’s a good thing you’ve had some practice."

In the stretcher, the First Lord stirred and lifted his head. He peered blearily around them. "Still in the swamps?"

"Yes, sire," Amara said.

"Bloody crows. I thought I remembered someone saying we were finally out of them. Have you seen the mountains yet?"

"No, sire," Bernard rumbled. "But with the trees and the mist, we can’t see more than a quarter mile or so, at best."

"Oh," Gaius murmured, subsiding again. "Well. Have we another blanket? I’m frozen."

Amara’s head came up suddenly, and Bernard’s did the same. She traded a long look with her husband. Then she went to the First Lord, who lay apparently sleeping once more. She laid her hand on his forehead and felt the fever at once.

"He’s running a fever," she said quietly.

Bernard growled. "Check his feet, first. If anything got into his blood, he might have to heal it and take our chances on alerting Kalarus."

Amara used more water to clean her hands, and checked the First Lord’s dressing. His sore foot still looked tender, the flesh red and raw, but there was no swelling or inflammation. His broken leg, bound hard to its splint, was swollen still, but the deep and heavy bruising all around it had faded to faint blotches of yellow and green. She cleaned them both with salted water, which elicited no response from the sleeping First Lord. Then she covered them again and turned to her husband. "I don’t think it’s come in through the wounds. Perhaps it’s just a springtime fever."

"Maybe," Bernard said. He rubbed at his head again. "We need to push harder," he said quietly. "Get as close as we can to Kalare, as fast as we can possibly manage it."

"If he keeps getting sicker, he might not be able to craft himself out of it," Amara said quietly.

"All the more reason for haste," Bernard replied.

Amara frowned, but could hardly argue with him. Their choices were unenviable. Allow Gaius to continue being weakened to ensure the surprise attack he said they needed, or have him begin furycrafting immediately, when they were farthest from any support, and where even the First Lord himself might eventually be overwhelmed by enemy numbers. "How much farther?" Amara asked.

Bernard made a brushing motion at the earth in front of them, and immediately the ground almost seemed to boil, dark loam rising to cover the grass and weeds in smooth, rich brown. Another gesture, and a large, semicircular area of the dirt shifted its contours, becoming an irregular, bumpy surface, not too unlike the skin of a garim. "This is the swamp," he said quietly. He took a small stone from the ground and placed it almost a third of the way across. "Here’s us."

He gestured with his hand again, and the earth at the far side of the symbolic swamp shifted, rising up into smooth cones in a broad, elegant sweep like that of a strung bow. "Here are the Kalare Mountains. They half encircle the area around Kalare. Once we cross the swamps, we’ll have to make our way to the base of the mountains. Then we’ll have to press through them until we find one close enough to see the city. Then we’ll have to climb it."