Fidelias stopped, panting, as he and Aldrick emerged from the heavily forested regions northeast of Bernardholt and reached the causeway that led down the Valley and ultimately to Garrison. His feet, though he had wrapped them in strips of his cloak and urged his furies to ease his way, had worsened. The pain alone was nearly enough to stop him, even without the fatigue from too long spent walking, casting back and forth in a fruitless effort to catch the wily Steadholder.
Fidelias sank onto a flat stone beside the causeway, while the swordsman paced restlessly out onto the road. "I don't get it," he said. "Why don't you just zoom us along like before?"
"Because we haven't been on a road," Fidelias said from between clenched teeth. "Riding an earthwave along a road is simple. Using one in the open countryside, without intimate knowledge of the local furies is suicide."
"So he can do it, but you can't."
Fidelias suppressed a sharp comment. "Yes, Aldrick."
"We're crowbait."
Fidelias shook his head. "We're not going to catch him at this rate. He left a half-dozen false trails behind him and waited until we bought one of them before he raised his wave and went."
"If we had the horses-"
"We don't," Fidelias said bluntly. He lifted his foot and unwrapped some of the cloth.
Aldrick paced over to him. He stared down at his feet and swore. "Crows, old man. Can you feel them?"
"Yes."
Aldrick knelt and unwrapped a bit more of the cloth, assessing the injuries. "Getting worse. There's more swelling. If you let this go, you're going to lose them."
Fidelias grunted. "There's still time. We need to-" Fidelias looked up to see Etan dancing frantically in the nearest tree. He cast his eyes down the road west of them. "Aldrick," Fidelias said, keeping his voice low. "Two men on the road coming toward us. Legion haircuts, both armed."
Aldrick drew in a breath, closing his eyes for a moment. "All right. Legionares?"
"No uniforms."
"Age?"
"Young." Fidelias touched the stones of the road with one foot, reaching out for Vamma. "Using the road to help them run. Moving fast. They've got some training in warcrafting."
"How do we do it?"
"Wait for me to say," Fidelias said. "Let's find out whatever we can first." He watched the pair of young men come running toward them along the road and managed a pained smile as they approached and slowed their pace. "Morning, boys," he called. "Have you got a minute to help a couple of travelers?"
The young men slowed, and Fidelias took in the details as they came closer. Young, both of them-less than a score of years of age. Both were slender, though one was tall and already seemed to be losing his hair to a receding hairline. They shared similar long, lean features-brothers, perhaps. Both were panting, though not heavily, from their run along the road. Fidelias tried to smile again and offered them his water flask.
"Sir," panted the taller of the young men, accepting the flask. "Much obliged."
"You hurt?" asked the shorter. He leaned a bit closer, peering at Fidelias's feet. "Crows. You've really gotten them torn up."