Night in the Foothills

It was one of the most beautiful nights Caden could remember. A hot day had given way to one of those still, cool nights that you wished for through the long summer months. Thousands of stars shown above him, spreading from horizon to horizon in great bands of pure, undiminished light, across the cloudless sky. He stared up at them, and silently named off all of the constellations that he could remember.

He found the Hammer, the Hunter, and the Crow. To the left of Usirus’ Bow was the Horse. Above the mountains on the eastern horizon he saw the Hound. Only one of the Twins was visible now, the other already leaving its winter home, in search of skies far away. He found the Sister, and the Wanderer, the Hero would be visible in a few more weeks, and the others of the Seven would continue in their trek across the sky.

His father had taught him the names of all of them long ago, on nights not too much different than this. Calm, cool summer nights spent in the foothills. Later Frey had taught him the Nulori’s names for them all, and the story behind each, and had even gone so far as to teach him how the Sherilli fortune tellers will speak your future based on the alignments of each.

Now he looked up at them and wished. Wished for comfort from the Sister, and Strength from the Hero. He wished on the other of the Seven also, even if they weren’t in the sky right now. He would need whatever help they gave him in the days to come.

They had found the Adkin’s farm early two mornings ago. The raiders had made no attempt to cover their tracks. Frey had followed the trail easily out of the Evela foothills, southwest on a course roughly even with the mountains, which placed them, most definitely, in the lawless lands. It was clear that they were indeed heeded to Jicole, a thought that did not please him.

They had ridden hard every day, not even stopping to eat, and walking only to give the horses a rest. Sleeping briefly at night, only long after it was dark, and starting again at first light. They appeared to be gaining ground on the slavers, although he was doubtful they would ever catch them before they reached the city, where their problems would be increased a million-fold.

He did not look forward to entering Jicole. He did not look forward to another long day of riding. Nor did he look forward to confronting a band of slavers with only one other man, and not a scrap of a plan between the two of them. In fact, when he thought about it, there was very little that he had to look forward to.

His head hurt from the hot sun, and his stomach from all the worrying. His legs were sore, his hands cramped, and his feet sick of being crammed into boots all day. Now, he was more tired than he could ever remember being before, but somehow unable to sleep. So he lay on a cloudless night, in the darkness, knowing that dawn was just a little way off, and wishing to the Sister that it would never come.