Bloodsongs (37 page)

She frowned. Didn't he feet it? Didn't he understand? This was Esgaria, and she had come home. She peered upward through the looming trees that seemed to lean over and whisper to her. The sunlight streaming through the leaves whispered and listened. The dark recesses whispered and listened.

“Not much light left,” her comrade reminded her. A note of irritation had crept into his voice. He walked his horse a few steps down the narrow path. “We could lose him in the dark.”

She turned her head from side to side and spoke in a muted murmur. “I've touched his heart with my magic.” She closed her eyes and hugged herself, and her voice dropped even lower. “I can feel him. I know where he is. You needn't worry about losing him.”

She opened her eyes again. The mood of the forest was overwhelming. She breathed deeply, and the odors of the leaves and the grass and the soil filled her.

Telric's brows knitted together, then he glanced away. The cloak he wore couldn't disguise the way he bunched his shoulders. His hands clenched around his reins until the knuckles whitened. “You don't need me for anything, do you?”

Suddenly, the forest was just another forest. The land could have been any country. The wind blew, and the leaves rustled, and the river made a bubbling roar, but the sound was the same as on the Keled side, the same as it was anywhere.

She rode close to Telric, leaned out, and put a hand on his thigh. “Don't talk like a fool,” she said in a normal voice. If the forest could listen, she didn't care. “I have my witchcraft, but I also have a heart and all its failings. I'm scared, and I'm tired.” She paused and waited until he looked up and met her gaze. “I feel so old, Telric. If you weren't here to see me through this, I don't think I could go on.”

A wan smile parted his lips. He laid a hand on hers and squeezed it. “It's a nice lie,” he said. “You're stronger, woman, than any man I've ever known. Magic has nothing to do with it. You had no power when we first met years ago in the Creel Mountains.” He swallowed and wet his lips. “Nothing stops you, and you do what you have to do.”

“So do you, Telric Lord Rholf.” She pulled her hand away and looked ahead into the dense foliage where the tracks led. “Kel na'Akian is your brother's son. This is a family matter.”

He hesitated. “Family?”

A nod of her head closed the discussion. There was yet a faint gray light from the setting sun. They could push deeper into the woodland, then make camp for the night when it was too dark to travel. She nudged Ashur onward and held up an arm to knock the first low branch from her face.

Esgaria closed around them.

 

Frost leaned back, glad for the spongy piece of ground that made her bed, and rested her head on her saddle. She stretched and willed her weary muscles to relax. The small fire warmed the soles of her bare feet, and she wiggled her toes deliciously.

Thousands of crickets and other insects filled the night with their songs. An owl hooted, unseen in the impenetrable gloom beyond the firelight. Overhead, the branches sawed back and forth in an easy breeze. It was an age-old chorus, and she lay perfectly still to fully enjoy it.

A twig snapped. Telric stepped into the circle of light, returning from a short, private walk. He dropped down onto the cloak he had spread beside her and folded his hands behind his head. Only a very few stars were visible through the thick overhang.

“You're too restless.” she observed. “Try to sleep.”

“You could catch up to him,” he said. Clearly, his mind was still on Kel. He raised up on his elbows and stared into the fire. “I've seen Ashur run, remember? You could overtake him easily.”

She sighed, not wishing to surrender a rare moment of peace. She folded her hands behind her head, hoping he would take it as a hint. “The stallion was strong and swift, and Kel knows his way. He has that advantage. All we can do is follow.”

He sat completely up. “You said you could tell where he was!”

She shifted her feet a little closer to the fire, relishing the toasty warmth. “I can, but that doesn't mean there's a neatly paved road between us. I can't just ride over to him and say hello. An unseen limb would knock me as flat on my back as anybody.”

Telric lay back again. He folded his arms over his chest, and his mouth drew into a tight line. Something weighed heavily on his mind, but he held it back.

“I've given it some thought,” she said at last to ease his worrying. “And I've decided we've got a little time. We don't have to push so hard; we need rest ourselves.”

He rolled over on his side to look at her. The fire gave an orange sheen to half of his face. One eye gleamed; the other was lost in shadow.

She decided to explain a few things to him. “Kel told me the objects he sought were the Three Aspects of a potent Chondite spell that could bring the dead back to life.” She named the objects for him, ticking them off on her fingers. “The Eye of Skraal, the Lamp of Nugaril, the Book of Shakari—don't you see? This isn't any common spell, but true grand magic. High necromancy.” She gazed upward, searching the sky through the thick branches. The moon was not visible to her, but she knew its present shape. “That kind of necromancy can only be done when the moon renews itself and the night is as black as hell's deepest pit. That's three nights away.”

He frowned and shook his head. “None of that makes much sense to me.”

She smiled. Impulsively, she rumpled his hair. “Of course not. You're a Rholarothan.”

“I think I've been insulted,” he said with a pout.

“Many times in your life, no doubt.”

At last, he settled back and seemed to relax. He loosened his tunic to let the breeze play over his bare skin and interlaced his fingers on his belly. The gentle rush of his breathing became one more song added to the night's performance. But his eyes never closed.

For a long time she stared into the fire trying not to think about anything, and for a brief while she felt as if some part of her had merged with the land and the night. A sweet calm descended upon her, siphoning her fatigue, bringing a tranquil contentment. She knew it wouldn't last, but for now it was something very precious.

Her hand lightly brushed her companion's cheek. He rolled over again. She sat looking down at him until he, too, rose up.

“What about Kimon?” he asked slowly.

There was no hesitation in her answer. “I love Kimon. I'll love him forever and longer than that. But Kimon isn't here. He can't touch me, and I want to be touched.”

He looked past her into the fire. “You're not in love with me, though. Not the way I am with you.”

She took his face between her hands and made him see her. His features danced with firelight and shadow; his eyes glowed from dark depths.

“I do love you, Telric,” she said earnestly. “At this moment, for this night, as much as I can, I do love you.” She pressed her forehead to his. “Let that be enough.”

He pulled her hands down, but he didn't let them go. “What about tomorrow?”

She shrugged. “Tomorrow is tomorrow.”

Sadly, he shook his head and lay back down. He turned away and rested his head in the crook of an arm. “It's not enough,” he told her honestly.

She sat there, silent, unmoving, watching his back. The crickets sang, and the breeze played in her hair, and the night waited with her. After a little while, he rose again and reached for her hand. “Maybe it's enough,” he conceded, “for one night.”

 

The fire had burned very low. Neither Frost nor Telric felt like getting up to hunt more wood, and they were warm enough next to each other. They lay quietly, listening to the sounds of the night. Then, in the gloomy forest depths among the twisted limbs and gnarled old trunks, something caught her attention.

“Look,” she said, freeing herself from the arm Telric had thrown across her middle. She raised up on one elbow to see better. “Fireflies.”

He peered over her shoulder, then put his head back down again. “Ummm, just a bunch of bugs.”

She sat up and watched them for a long time, winking in the darkness, mesmeric and beautiful. Yet she remembered
Sha-Nakare
and moved a little closer to the fire.

 

By noon the next day they had reached the end of the forest. A small town and surrounding fields lay directly in their path. Frost pulled Ashur to a halt while there were still enough trees to hide them.

“You go on,” she told Telric. “Get us some food and find out what place this is. I'll meet you on the far side.”

He gave her a doubtful look. “Surely you don't think anyone here would remember you. It's been a long time.”

She gazed at the nameless town. A part of her longed to ride beside him. Those were her people ahead. She shared a heritage with them. Yet she knew she could not enter, and a small pang stabbed her heart. “I'm still a woman wearing a sword,” she reminded him. “They would shun me as something vile and despicable. Even if I kept my mouth shut so they wouldn't recognize my accent, even if they didn't guess that I was also Esgarian, I wouldn't be welcome. Women do not touch the weapons of a man—that is our strongest taboo.”

Telric hawked and spat. “Stupid custom.”

“Is it more stupid,” she rejoined, “than the blood feuds that keep you Rholarothans at each other's throats?”

He appeared to think about that as he scratched his sweaty chest. Then he shrugged.

“I'll go wide around the fields.” She pointed to the road that cut straight through the town. “You'll find me along the way when I'm out of sight of the citizenry.”

He nodded, but then he pursed his lips and asked sheepishly, “Just how hungry are you?” He patted his clothing meaningfully. “I'm afraid you've caught me at a low moment—not a
minarin
in my pocket.”

Her jaw dropped. She clapped a hand to her chest; the purse she wore on a thong was gone. Cursing, she remembered she had lost it at Dakariar during her confrontation with Kel.

She closed her eyes and let go a long sigh. Then she slipped the silver circlet from her brow and turned it lovingly in her hands, admiring the workmanship, savoring the memories it brought. The sun gleamed on the single moonstone set cleverly into the twisted band, and she imagined she could see in its polished surface the aged face of the woman who had given it to her as a gift on her first adventure. Frost had treasured the circlet all those years.

“Take this,” she said, pressing it reluctantly into Telric's hands. “We both need a decent meal. My belly feels like an empty pit.” Her fingers lingered briefly on the ornament as he accepted it from her. The metal was still warm with the heat of her body. “See that you bargain dearly with it, though.” she added. “Get a good price.”

He frowned but thrust the piece inside his tunic. “You're sure that Kel came through here?”

“Through and straight out,” she answered shortly. “He didn't tarry. See that you don't, either.”

She jerked on the unicorn's reins and rode away, following the edge of the forest until she was beyond the range of the fields and the town was but a featureless smear in the distance. Then she cut westward, making a wide arc until she rejoined the road.

A tree grew close to the roadside. She dismounted, unfastened her weapon belt, and sat down with her back to the rough bark. Ashur stayed near and began to munch the thick grass.

The leafy branches shaded her from the sun, and she opened the top of her tunic slightly to let the scant breeze cool her. She ran a hand along the grass, then dug her fingers into the rich earth.

Was it a tremor of fear or a thrill of excitement that ran up her spine?
Esgaria.
In every quiet moment that name sprang into her thoughts. She had come home at last. The leaves, the wind, the sun all seemed to whisper
Esgaria
.

She opened her hand. The black, fertile soil sifted through her fingers.

Yet her homeland had rejected her, made her an outcast, denied her the right to be what she was. Esgaria, as much as she, with its laws and customs, had murdered her brother. Esgaria was to blame for her parents' deaths.

The land that was so dear to her was also dangerous and alien. She realized with a deep, aching sadness that, although she had been born here, this was not truly her home. She loved this land of dark forests, yawning valleys, and sharp cliffs. It was a mysterious, spectacular land with a spirit all its own.

But she was a warrior and a woman—and for that Esgaria would not love her.

Love.
She turned the word over and over in her mind. She longed for it where it was not offered, and she rejected it when it was.

What had driven her into Telric's arms? Loneliness? Fear of the future? So often she had seen men on the eve of a battle seek the solace of sweethearts, wives, or prostitutes. Perhaps some similar instinct had compelled her to reach out for Telric. In fact, it had been on the eve of her confrontation with Kel that she and Lycho had savored each other.

Lycho had given her so much, but Telric had given more. The force of his love had swept away her cares last night, and eventually she had found beside him the first restful sleep in months. But it had not ended, she knew. When the sun had come up she had seen into his eyes, noted the way he gazed at her as they rode. He had said little, nor had he tried to touch her again. But she could feel his longing.

In the night it had been sweet. In the light of day with time to think, she realized it had only been cruel. Still, she wondered if she would feel the same when darkness fell again. She had no doubt how Telric would feel.

Could she make a new life with another man? The thought startled her. She had given no consideration to anything beyond stopping Kel and settling scores with the sorceress he called Oroladian.

But after that?

Suddenly, she was thinking of Amalki and Teri, the friends who had saved her few belongings when her inn had burned. She found she missed her neighbors, and she wondered if Teri's baby had been born yet. Surely it had come by now. Boy or girl? She wished she had agreed to let them name it Kirigi.