A/N: Big thanks and virtual truffles to etcetera-cat, Queen's Own and mysticmoods for the reviews. I'm not a total review-slut, but they do give me some serious warm fuzzies.


Chapter 2 - The Road to Haven
+

It was two days before the storm was fully abated, another four before the Heralds judged the hill roads passable. On the morning of the seventh day, the three readied for the trip north.

Jana sat on Vixen as she watched the two women ready their horses. Nerves had chased her out of bed and to the barn an hour before the early rising Caer even had her slippers on. Vixen had already been tacked, dancing impatient circles in the snow, before she saw Tess up. Jana wanted to be gone, to Haven, to the south, to anywhere! As long as she was moving. She felt too easy a target standing still, as though a Jkathen guardsman could burst into the clearing at any moment to drag her back. Telling herself to stop being paranoid did as much good as telling Vixen to stand still. Might as well shake her fist at the wind to make it stop blowing.

Six days of rest and quality feed had done her mare good, giving the sorrel higher spirits then she'd had since before the pair first crossed the border into Rethwellan. She was almost doing too good; Jana had to put some muscle behind her request for the mare to take up a spot behind Tess's horse - her Companion - Gavin. Tess would lead them for the first few miles, then Caer would hand off the chirra pack train to her partner so that she and Melli could have their turn at breaking the trail. Jana and Vixen would have a go at it once they were clear of the Comb and the road became easier to follow. As it stood now, she was as likely to lead them off a cliff as not.

Jana had spoken very little since her first night at the lodge, mostly entering into conversation to ask about their route, and the towns they were likely to encounter. Her brother's greatcoat was tied behind her saddle, the two shirts she wore proving ample enough protection in the bright sunlight. Caer had gone digging in the chirra's packs and come up with a leather strip she could use as a hair tie, her own becoming lost after she took her hair down in the blizzard. Jana took advantage of the gift to put her hair in one long braid that could be tucked down the back of her shirt and out of her way.

Breaking a trail through heavy snow was a difficult task even for a Companion, and the going wasn't light work for Vixen and the Chirras even after the trail had been set. They traveled at a snail's pace, pausing frequently to rest their mounts. Jana did note progress as the day went on, and it bolstered her spirits somewhat. The land was becoming flatter with each mile, trees started to appear that actually looked like trees and not misshapen bushes.

Tess and Caer had camp-making down to an exact science, leaving very little for Jana to do besides see to herself and Vixen. It was the easiest traveling she'd done in nearly a year, and she found herself reveling in every boring, monotonous minute of it. No bandits, no lack of food, no worrying over whether there would be enough feed for Vixen. No need to spend the precious few coins she had left, and no spending half a candlemark fighting to get a campfire burning. Who knew that it could be so gloriously wonderful to have nothing going on?

Caer had done a fairly good job of explaining the trip, so Jana wasn't surprised when two days later they rode right past the first town that appeared by the lefthand side of the road. There were only a handful of people to be seen, mending fences and working on roofs collapsed by the weight of the snow. The ones that did bother to glance up at the road as they went by had only sour looks for the Heralds, a few going so far as to spit in their general direction.

Holderkin live in the land closest to the Comb, Caer had explained on their last day at the lodge, and they are infamous throughout Valdemar for their dislike of strangers, women and Heralds in particular. I think any advantage we could gain by stopping there will be overwhelmed by the frosty reception we're sure to receive.

We're too cheeky for Tess had added with a smile and a wink. They like their women to be silent and out of the way.

The land seemed brighter once they were clear of the last Hold, as though the farmers' drab colored clothing and singularly uninspired architecture had depressed the land itself. That night they camped at a small cabin already stocked with provisions, that Tess called a waystation. It was plain and practical, but seemed the very lap of luxury after making rough camp in the snow. While the Heralds fixed their bedrolls and started in on putting together dinner, Jana volenteered to see to the animals.

The horses had only a lean-to for protection, but whomever had built this place had done so with a careful eye for the weather. The wind and the snow it brought were buffeted and diverted clear by the bulk of the waystation itself, and only the worst of the winter storms would necessitate bringing the animals into the waystation proper. Jana found two wooden barrels of a barley and oat grain mix where Tess had promised they would be, the grain smelling fresh even though the barrel tops were quite dusty.

Vixen and the chirras crowded her for their dinner, and she had to swat the largest of the wooly creatures on the nose to get it to back away long enough for her to pour a bucket of the grain mix in the trough. The rest took the hint and belatedly recalled the manners they were supposed to have. The Heralds' Companions were as well mannered as they had been since the first, staying a polite distance away until Jana had filled two buckets and hung them from the stall divider. Caer had said that they were far more intelligent than a horse, and didn't need to be trained at all. Jana was doubtful of the last - no matter how intelligent a horse was, it was still a horse - but couldn't help but admire a beast that had the entire package; beauty, brains, smooth gaits and a functional build that would stand up to even the hardest riding. Pity they couldn't breed them in a more practical color.

It must have been a trick of the light, perhaps the work of a too tired mind, but Jana would have sworn on her Mother's grave that just as that last thought crossed her mind, the white mare raised her head slightly from her feed and winked at her. She stood and watched the mare eat for a few moments longer, but the horse didn't offer up any further strange behavior. I need to be careful to get a few more hour's sleep tonight, she mused, or I'll start spooking at snowflakes like a newly weaned filly. She used the same bucket as she had to portion out the grain to bring in snow for the water buckets, placing two of the large metal tubs in the warmest corner of the lean-to where the snow would melt quickly. With one last suspicious glance back at Melli, she rejoined the Heralds inside.

Tess hadn't been exaggerating Caer's lack of cooking skills. If she hadn't been cold, tired and hungry enough to wrestle a change-lion for her supper, Jana doubted that she would have been able to get down one small bowl of the stew, much less two. It was with great pleasure that she handed her bowl back to Tess to be washed. Three bodies and a small fire was enough to get the room to the edge of almost being too hot, and Jana slipped off one of her shirts to roll up and use as a pillow, her greatcoat serving as a blanket. The goose-down stuffed bedroll she had started her trip with had been traded off for a few pounds of salted venison at a homestead in mid-Rethwellan, the woolen blanket paying for a night's stay at an inn a week later.

The Heralds didn't seem to be in any hurry to settle down for the night, so Jana judged it as good a time as was likely to come up for getting answers to some of her more nagging questions.

You said that every Herald has a Companion, she began, once she saw she had Caer's attention, and that the royalty does too. And you said that the Herald Trainees all have a Companion of their own before they enter the Collegium. But who decides which people are given a Companion?

Not all royalty remember, just those who are also Heralds. The Monarch and heir must be Heralds, or they aren't considered fit to be crowned, but there are plenty of royals in our history who never wore white unless it was a fashion statement. Caer had a way of speaking carefully that made it seem as though she was giving each and every question great thought, without her manner ever slipping over into condensation. As for who decides what people get Chosen, that's up to the Companions themselves.

But how ? This was the part Jana couldn't seem to wrap her mind around. How do they know what people? And how do you know that a Companion has Chosen someone and not just taken a liking to them?

Caer chuckled. You've just asked the great unanswered question of Valdemar. No one but the Companions themselves know what criteria they use to pick a new Herald. We do know that when certain people are chosen, such as a firestarter - you know what those are, right?

Someone who can start fires at will, but who doesn't have any mage powers. I heard a story about one born to a Shin'a'in clan once. The tale had ended with the boy dead by his own mother's hand after he proved unable to control the grassfires he was constantly starting. Sacrifice of the individual for the greater good had been a frequent theme in Huntsman Jal's stories, which rarely had the simple resolutions and happy endings the Bards often sang of.

You're ahead of most then. Many aren't aware of any abilities except for mage powers. In any case, we've seen that when a firestarter is Chosen, it means that within a short time Valdemar will fall into circumstances that are such as to require a firestarter's talents. That is one of the simpler examples I could give you, but I believe it illustrates my point well.

Jana nodded. That does make sense.

And as for how we know a person has been Chosen, Tess said, taking up the question, let's just say that it is not an event that could possibly be faked or mistaken. Blame it on divine intervention, if that makes it easier for you to grasp, but know that a Choosing is always genuine. It's one of the reasons Heralds are so trusted. People know that if they see a Herald, that person is in that position honestly, not because of political maneuvering or bribery.

I think I'm getting it. At least more than I was. It was still all very confusing, but somewhat clearer. She could well understand the importance of leadership and information-gathering positions being merit-based, and not a matter of how willing the person was to spread their legs or poison the competition. That was very clear to her indeed.


+


The road took them steadily north, past snow covered fields and cozy little townships tucked back into the folds of the hills. The threat of snow was back in the air, and the Heralds set a quick pace to take advantage of the clear road while it lasted. Not that it was a hardship on Jana or Vixen. Covering the roads between Felwether and Mournedealth in a five span, never stopping for more than a candlemark, the baying of hounds and huntsmen's horns never fading from your back trail - that had been hardship. This was a lover's stroll around the garden pond in spring.

With each town they rode into Jana was again surprised by how incredibly friendly the people were. They had no need to fear the agents of their Monarch, no worry that the arrival of a uniformed rider would bring hardship and despair. Even the names of the places were inviting; Sweetsprings, Horn, Dog Inn. City names in Jkatha did tend to lack a certain warmth. Ko'ons, Lumbok and Atabar did not sound like places that would be enjoyable to stay in, though Ko'ons was actually quite pleasant. The terraced gardens and tree lined streets had stayed imprinted in her memory for months after visiting Mother's family there.

Riding in the Heralds' company brought privileges beyond protection from bandits and thieves. Jana found herself receiving the same generosity the townsfolk showed the other two women, as well as some extra coddling from the elder women. The outline of her ribs was quickly disappearing under the onslaught of sweets and baked goods piled on her plate at every inn, and after a night spent sleeping on the softest overstuffed feather mattress the innkeeper owned the thought of having only a thin coat between the rocky ground and herself was torturous.

The once finicky Vixen had learned her lesson from months without, not passing by any opportunity to gorge herself on abundant feed provided by the inn stables they stayed at. Jana had been forced to make a point of taking the stable boys aside at each new inn, making sure they would understand and respect her wishes for the mare to be fed lighter than the other horses. It was a new battle at each inn, and the townspeople's lack of horse-sense had her ready to wail and tear out hair. You didn't feed an almost pony-small mare the way you did a dray horse, and you certainly didn't try to compensate for months of light rations in a single feeding by stuffing the poor horse like a feast-day goose!

The towns had been growing larger as they rode away from the border, with walls and planned out streets. They were much busier as well, the small group actually getting themselves wedged into something of a traffic mix-up while trying to ride out of Kettlesmith on a dark morning. There was a small faire taking place that day, and the farmers and craftsmen who would be selling their wares were all trying to get their wagons in through the gate before first light broke, when foot traffic would make navigating the narrow streets nigh on impossible. The Companions and chirras weaved in and out of the line of wagons and pack animals without any fuss, but it took a few false starts before Jana could convince Vixen that she was capable of doing the same. Kettlesmith was only a five day ride from Haven in good weather, and Caer thought that they could make it in seven even with the snow that fell light and steady.

The road was more or less following a river now, that Tess called the Terilee. It wandered in and out of view depending on how the road turned, never staying out of sight for more than a mile or two. It was deep and swift enough to resist freezing over, and made watering the stock and washing clothes that much easier. Tess actually bathed in it one night, taunting Caer and Jana to join in while they stood by the bank wondering as to what madness had seized their companion. Even the horses seemed to agree that Tess was crazy, standing well back from the water's edge while drinking so that no part of them got wet. Caer got the last laugh on that one. It was several candlemarks in front of the fire before Tess quit shivering and her lips went back to being their proper color.

They were four days out from Kettlesmith when Tess spotted the Herald. Jana and Caer were able to see him as well after a minute, the dim white spot on the far horizon turning into a horse and rider as they drew closer.

Do we know who it is? Caer asked Tess, who was standing in her stirrups with her eyes shaded trying to pick up more details.

Grey hair, and his legs are hanging well past his Companion's barrel. Has to be Treyon. We don't have anyone else that old or tall on circuit.

It seemed to Jana that the Companion must surely be flying, for every time she blinked the white horse had covered an incredible amount of distance. The Herald was slightly out of the saddle and low over his mount's neck, urging him on to greater effort. She could hear the quick staccato of hoof beats, and so could her mare. Vixen had no intentions of standing still if some other horse got to be out running, and Jana finally pulled her off the road so that her impatient fidgeting wouldn't cause any hassle for the Heralds. Caer caught her eye as she slipped Vixen by Melli, handing Jana the rope of the lead chirra. She took it, grudgingly. Keeping Vixen and the chirras from getting tangled up with each other was going to take as much luck as skill.

The Herald waited until the last second to pull rein, his Companion actually skidding slightly before coming to a stop within a handspan of Caer and Melli. The white coat was dark with sweat, and the stallion - no doubt of that from the angle Jana was at! - stood with his nostrils flared and sides heaving.

Treyon, what's going on? Melli hadn't so much as batted an eyelash since they had spotted the rider, and she stood under Caer now as though she was white marble and not flesh. Jana was impressed beyond words. She really needed to track someone down who could tell her how they managed to train the horses like that!

The old Herald was nearly as out of breath as his mount, and it took him a few tries before he could speak coherently. One of the Trainees Saw a band of travelers being murdered, between the first waystation out from Kettlesmith and before the first one out of Haven. It was almost dark, so a few candlemarks from now. They're not sure who, didn't get a good look, but they said that attack was magical. No adept mages in or near Haven right now, so they grabbed me up as the next best thing. He smiled weakly. A half-trained old journeyman is better then nothing, I suppose.

Tess and Caer gave each other one of their Looks, worry evident on both faces. We haven't seen anyone, Caer said, But we'll ride with you to find the travelers. Jana -

-will camp here. All the gear is on the chirras anyway, and if you're not back in a day I'll ride on to Haven, Jana answered, cutting the Herald off before she could speak further. Caer looked relieved, then wheeled Melli and took off down the way they'd come at a gallop, Tess and Treyon falling in behind her. It was only a minute or two before they disappeared around a bend, the sound of hoof beats fading slowly into the distance.

+

Nearly three weeks spent in the company of experts had done wonders for Jana's camping skills. She was set for the night with a fire blazing in under a candlemark, and even found enough time to go fishing in the river before the last rays of sunlight faded. The spot she choose was set far back enough that it was unlikely anyone passing on the road would see her, unless they were specifically looking. She had set up a picket line for the animals between the two largest trees, then took them off one by one to water and feed them. She'd just finished with the last chirra, and had a small fish steak beginning to heat over the fire.

Do you have room by the fire for an old man to warm his bones?

Jana screamed. She wasn't proud of it, she would never admit to it in company, but when the raspy voice came out of the darkness she dropped the skillet into the fire and screamed like a stepped-on kitten. She rose and whirled around, trying to see who had spoken. Nothing but darkness met her eyes, darkness and the picket line of nervous stock. Vixen was set back against her rope, the whites of her eyes catching the firelight. The chirras had grouped themselves as closely together as their leads would allow, and were making a low humming noise. Jana could feel her heart speeding up, fear making her breathe come in pants and her pulse echo in her ears. What's making the animals nervous? They shouldn't be nervous! She put her back to the fire as she slowly turned around again, scanning the woods around her. The hilt of her knife caught her eye, firelight reflecting off of the rose quartz stone set into the pommel. She had tucked it loosely into her pack after she finished cleaning the fish. She slowly pulled it free and stuck it into the sheath on her belt, keeping both eyes trained on the perimeter as she did so.

Are you still out there grandfather? she called. I have room by my fire, but please show yourself first. The tree branches rustled, as if in a wind, though no breeze came through the camp. She could hear the steady crunch-crunch of footsteps in snow. Two, maybe three pairs, coming from the direction of the road. She nearly screamed again when something large splashed into the river behind her, drawing blood as she bit down on her lip to stay quiet. The footsteps were drawing closer, sounding as if they were circling around the camp instead of making a straight path towards it. Bright Lady, please have mercy for your wayward daughter! Let these be farm boys playing a trick!

The chirras' humming grew louder, and Vixen was starting to truly struggle against her line now, forefeet braced as she threw her entire weight back against the tie rope. More sounds were coming from the river now, two sets of feet making their way through the snow towards camp. Eyes in the woods caught the firelight, man-height and cat slitted. Two sets - then four, another coming into view to make five.

:: Use me! ::

Her hand rose unbidden, covering the rune stone she wore on a leather throng around her neck. The stone could save her, could stop an army if need be, even though her welfare hadn't been the thought behind its creation. But the price was so very high.... Memories of blood on snow rose in her mind, blood and pleading words and a chest rising for its last breath, a child's heart shattering. Far too high a price, even for her life. She dropped her hand.

The stone's voice took up a screeching chant, growing louder with each word. ::Use the magic use the magic use ituseituseit!:: The fury behind the words nearly drove her to her knees, spikes of pain lancing her temples as she fought the command. Jana screamed again, as much pain as fear in her voice. It had been too long since the stone last made a demand, she'd forgotten the punishment for going against its wishes.

You are not my mistress! Never again, never! A loud crack echoed through the camp as Vixen's line broke, the mare scrambling backwards as she sought to regain her balance. She stumbled slightly as she lunged for Vixen, the stone making once last attempt at stopping her. She recovered just as the first of the things reached the far edge of the camp, catching the mare just as she would have shot past her to freedom. There was enough rope hanging down from the halter for Jana to grab, setting her weight against it to pull the terrified horse off balances and into a circle around her. Something flashed in the corner of her eye, tawny fur and bared fangs and children's nightmares come alive.

Two bounces and a lunge put her belly down across the mare's back, nearly tipping off the other side as she righted herself. The broken line was too short for Jana to hold onto while riding, and she let it go with a curse. Something grabbed at her ankle and she kicked at it without turning around. She couldn't look, knew she couldn't look or the fear would make her freeze like a deer caught in lantern light. Jana felt Vixen gather herself and lash out with both hinds, two voices crying out in pain behind them.

She dug her heels in and yelled at Vixen for speed, twining her hands into the long mane for grip. Something screamed behind her, a cat's yowl and owl screech and human scream all rolling into one sound. Branches clawed at her legs and face, the mare crashing through thick underbrush before coming out onto the road. Jana hung on with all she had, not caring that the mare's gallop uncontrolled as long as they were still putting distance between themselves and the things. Vixen was running as she never had before, the road beneath them flowing like it was liquid as they fled. Run love, run, she silently begged the mare. Fly for me sweetling!

+

He's never been wrong before. Treyon shook his head slightly, puzzlement etched across his features. I don't understand why he was wrong this time. He was hunched against the cold, one of Tess's spare cloaks barely spanning his shoulders. Absent-minded as always, Treyon had left Haven dressed only in his summer Whites.

The Companions had run themselves into the ground making it to Kettlesmith before the moon rose, with not hair nor hide of a traveling party to be seen. The three held to a much more sedate pace now as they rode back towards Haven. Melli wouldn't admit to being anything other than indestructible, but Caer could feel the hesitation in her stride that hadn't been there before. She also noted how calmly Gavin was walking besides Treyon's Dertrin. The two had been foaled the same year, and usually reverted back to acting like they were yearling colts again in each other's presence, play-snapping and tossing their heads like fools. Both stallions were feeling the effort they'd made.

Mistakes happen, she said calmly, and he easily could have caught a glimpse of the past or distant future.

No, no, he was certain. The whole situation was an obvious worry for the old Herald. Trouble was afoot tonight. Something must have happened after he got the vision I suppose, to change the path of things.

Melli flicked one delicate ear back, cocking her head slightly to get a better view of what was behind her. :: Rider coming up, Chosen. Running hard. ::

The air was crisp and clear, sound traveling farther then was usual. Caer picked up on the distant echo as soon as Melli had spoken. Treyon and Tess must have received similar warnings, for they turned in their saddles as Caer did. A dray horse came galloping around the last bend in the road, coat shining white in the moonlight. The boy riding him couldn't have been past six or seven, his heels drumming into the light hide at a point not even a quarter of the way down the horse's barrel.

he cried. The horse didn't need more than a suggestion to slow down, covering the last few yards at a rough trot that made Caer wince in sympathy for the boy. He pulled the gray to a stop a few feet short of Caer, fumbling with the long driving lines he held in lieu of proper riding reins. He was panting worse than the horse was, tripping over words in his hurry to speak. 'eralds! My Da sent me ta find ou, we've a farm just ou'side of Kettlesmith. We eard you was jus ere lookin' for anythin' strange like, and he's askin' for you to come n see wha we've found.

Caer blinked at him, trying to puzzle out what he had said. It wasn't just that people minced all the words, they switched the vowel sounds all around sideways and backwards and said it all so darn fast. Noble born and sheltered, she had been nearly twenty before she came across anyone who didn't speak unaccented common. The local dialects of the fishing and farmer folk might as well be Karsite for all she understood. Tess was used to her shortcomings, and didn't need to be asked to step in and translate. Gavin moved to put her parallel with the boy, and Tess laid a hand on his arm to calm him.

What's it your Da found, lad?

One o' those witch-circles, idden way in the woods. Nutin' we've ever seen afore, as there's boots innit. Boots, n fresh tracks leadin' out but no leadin' in.

Boots? Like mens' boots? Tess asked, worry starting to creep into her voice. Caer exchanged a look with Treyon, who had skipped right past worry and was looking out and out afraid.

The boy quickly nodded. Aye, jus' like Da wears. An' the tracks is lookin' like a big cat, withs paw-pads n such, jus as long as a man's.

Tess glanced back at Caer, and she nodded at her bondmate. Tess turned back to the boy, keeping her tone light and easy. Well then, that sounds like a job to be needin' a Herald then. Lead on lad, show us your witch-circle. The boy nodded again, pulling his horse around and using the blight of the reins to chase him up into a canter. The Heralds fell in behind, the Companions shifting into a smooth as glass traveling gait.

:: How bad is this likely to be?:: Caer asked Treyon, using mindspeech so as to not unduly upset the boy. The other Herald might joke about his meager abilities, but he was a mage, and had been given more opportunity to study the change-circles and talk with the experts than either Caer or Tess.

:: Our worst fears come true, :: he answered. :: A change-beast with human wits and wiles? I can't imagine. ::

:: Why would it wait so long to leave the circle? It's been years!::

He paused before answering, mulling the question over in his mind. :: Who can tell? I could give you a dozen plausible explanations, and a dozen more far-fetched ones. The only important thing, from my point of view, is that it is here and we are going to have to deal with it. ::

:: Will we be able to reason with it? :: A few of the smaller animals who had been caught in the change-circles during the mage-storms had been brought back to Haven, to give the Heralds an idea of what they might come across. They had all been vicious, as if the change itself had altered some part of their basic personality. Tess, then still in Trainee gray, had nearly lost an entire hand to what had once been a wood lark.

Treyon's answer only confirmed her fears. :: The Change will have driven them mad, if not made them into something more primal altogether. I do not wish for harm to come to any innocent being, but I will be approaching this with my hand on my sword , for my own sake ::

Caer shivered, and drew her cloak tighter. The moonlit night around them no longer looked as inviting as it had.