Swords Over Fireshore (15 page)

If she could take Woodrun before they came, she would be at an advantage. Perhaps...

No. The only way she could take Woodrun before her people came from Nightsand was to abandon Ghlanhras, and that she dared not do.

“Bright Lady?”

Naral stood in the doorway, a large rolled parchment in his hands. She summoned him with a gesture.

“These are the plans for a covered passage.”

He unrolled them on her work table, and she examined them. “Have we enough darkwood?”

“Plenty, Bright Lady. The wood yard is well-stocked.”

“How quickly can this be built?”

“If we may use ælven laborers, it will speed the work.”

“Yes, yes. Talk to Banath. How soon?”

“Forty days, Bright Lady.”

Shalár scowled. “You must do better than that.”

“I will strive to do better, but until the work is underway—”

“Have it done in twenty days.”

Even as she said it, the back of her neck prickled. Did the ælven have enough people in Woodrun to mount an attack on Ghlanhras? If so, twenty days was too long. If not...the next closest ælven cities, discounting Bitterfield which was too small to be a threat, were in the Steppes. She might be safe from them yet a while.

She handed the plans back to Naral, daring him with her gaze to protest. He bowed instead, and went away. Vaguely disappointed, she went out to the audience chamber, where her steward stood talking with two of her hunters. They fell silent at her approach.

“I need information. Vamar, find me two good scouts, fast runners.”

The hunter bowed and turned to go. In the distance, the sound of repairs to Darkwood Hall disturbed the night. Shalár had ordered all the high window screens to be covered with boards of darkwood, so that the ælven could not again breach them and let daylight into the hall.

She was still restless. She glanced at her steward.

“When the scouts arrive, tell them I want them to make all speed to Woodrun. I need to know how many ælven are there and what weapons they have. Also, they must learn whether the two who escaped are there.”

“Yes, Bright Lady.”

“I will be inspecting the wall.” She strode from the audience chamber and out through the hall to the public circle.

Stars and a cold moon peered down at her. The moon made her frown; even its weaker light stung a little against her cheek. She looked away and started toward the city gates, hoping to distract herself with a review of her defenses.

Luruthin had lost track of how many nights the party had spent walking through the forest. Two? Three? Perhaps more. A handful of Kivhani's people had joined them—white-haired and black-eyed; he disliked looking at them—so for their comfort the party traveled mostly by night. They wore heavy leather hoods and clothing, but during the day they still preferred to hide from the sun.

Luruthin had settled into a state of numbness, which at least was not painful. Whenever they paused to rest he lay on the ground with his head spinning from weariness.

He knew that Eliani worried. He could offer her no reassurance, and did not have the strength to try. Just walking, just moving when it was required of him, took all the strength he had, and it was getting more difficult.

The little food they found, nuts and berries and a few edible leaves and roots, was scarcely enough to keep him going. Eliani was giving most of what she gathered to him.

The ground rose steadily, which slowed their progress even more. They were climbing into the Ebons. The forest had changed enough that he noticed the difference despite his focused weariness.

Darkwoods were fewer and smaller, interspersed with more oaks, and the undergrowth was less tangled. Vines had given way to brush and even small clearings now and then. The understory was much more open, a relief after the confined feeling of the darkwood forest. The air, too, was cooler and less damp.

Luruthin knew the party was setting their pace to what he and Othanin could manage, and so in grim determination he walked on, placing one foot before the other, thinking of little else. When a Greenglen female who was walking ahead of him suddenly stopped, he had to keep himself from stumbling into her.

He leaned against the nearest tree, breathing hard. The khi of the party sharpened and they all fell silent in a way that reminded him of his seasons patrolling with Alpinon's Guard. A quarry had been scented, and all attention turned to its pursuit.

What quarry here? A deer, perhaps? The thought made his empty stomach clench.

He glanced at Eliani, behind him. She was standing still and listening, a slightly puzzled look on her face. After a moment she came over to join Luruthin. He managed to smile for her, assuring her that he was all right.

The Lost hunter who had been at the rear of the party now hastened forward, a sharp look in her eye. Eliani's escort gathered around Luruthin, exchanging curious glances. Vanorin came back down the trail to join them, accompanied by Othanin, who drew them all near with a gesture.

“Kobalen.” His voice was a scarcely audible whisper. “My lady and her friends need to hunt. We will wait a while here.”

The party exchanged glances again, this time uncomfortably, as they began to look around them for places to rest. Luruthin was surprised he had not sensed the kobalen.

The reminder of the Lost's need for blood was disquieting. The question had not arisen before, but Luruthin now had a fleeting thought that by simply waiting here, by not opposing this hunt, they were complicit.

Felahran sat beneath a scrubby oak. “Would that we had something to hunt.”

Luruthin sat as well and leaned his back against his tree. Looking up through the forest canopy, he saw a star glinting high above, the first he had seen since leaving Ghlanhras. It gave him great comfort.

Eliani crouched beside him and held up her hands, face questioning, offering healing. He shook his head, smiling his thanks.

She had not given healing to Vanorin, despite his having been wounded at Ghlanhras. Luruthin had suggested it to her early in the journey, but she had shaken her head. Perhaps she had offered, and Vanorin had refused.

Luruthin hugged himself, knowing he must overcome his discomfort. If he was not able to resolve these feelings, he would not be able to tell the others what had happened. How could he tell Jhinani? How could he even face her? More than any other, she would be hurt by it.

He had broken his cup bond to her. However unwilling, he had still broken it, with the worst possible result.

His two children would be born within a season.

Grimacing, he rejected the thought. He would not claim Shalár's daughter. That child was lost to him, and he to her. He must go on as if she did not exist.

A sound distracted him. Footfalls, faint but certain. The Lost were returning.

Around him the other guardians stirred and murmured. Luruthin kept his eyes closed, wishing to avoid conversation. He sensed the khi of the Lost joining the party, sharper and more vital than it had been before. It had an underlying tang to it, which after a moment he identified as kobalen.

He heard Eliani's voice, talking with Othanin's lady. A moment later Eliani summoned her party back to the trail.

They walked, and Luruthin's steps dragged though he tried to lift his feet. He made more noise moving along the trail than all the rest of them together.

The Greenglen ahead of him disappeared into the woods, yet Luruthin could move no faster. Eliani was behind him, not pressing him, but by her concern urging him on. To please her he continued, though he wanted only to collapse beside the trail.

At last they reached a large glen, thickets of thorn twining high overhead, with pockets like small caves around its edges. The trail crossed it and ran on into the woods, but to Luruthin's relief the Lost dispersed when they reached the glen, most seeking places to rest although two stood talking with Kivhani.

He moved to the nearest side of the thicket and dropped to his knees, then stretched out on his back, his breath coming hoarse in his dry throat. Hands touched his; Eliani's hands, wrapping his fingers around a water flask. He lay holding it for a moment, then rolled onto one side and fumbled at the cap with numb fingers.

So weak. He really would not be able to continue much farther. It was not yet close to dawn, so the party must have stopped for him to rest. He felt badly for this, but just now he could not continue.

He drank a little water and leaned on an elbow, starting to regain his breath. Eliani sat nearby, gazing at him in mute concern. He sipped the water again, then capped the flask and let it slip from his fingers onto the leaf-strewn floor of the glen as he lay back. His eyes closed, stinging. Small twitches ran along the muscles of his legs.

He listened to the many and varied complaints of his flesh, trying to identify some part of him that did not ache. His ears rang with weariness. His mouth felt parched despite what he had just drunk.

“Luruthin.” Eliani's voice was a whisper.

He opened his eyes and saw her sitting over him, her hands poised near his brow. She gazed at him, silently asking permission to touch him, to bring her healing gift to bear. He nodded.

Warmth filled his head as she laid her hands on either side of it. He inhaled as if to drink in the khi coming through her hands. A slow fire seemed to burn through his head and down into his chest. His eyes fell closed again.

Because he was too weary to control his thoughts, he became immersed in Eliani's presence. The khi that flowed into him was not hers, but it tasted of her, and he could not help the memories awakened by this.

They had served in Alpinon's Guard together for nearly two decades, until his assumption of a theyn's duties had kept him more at home. Even then he had ridden with the Guard from time to time, hunting or patrolling the mountains, a handful of guardians seeing no other company for as much as half a season at a time. Trading stories and singing songs beneath the stars. And lovemaking.

Memory shifted and he saw Shalár's face above him, her face ablaze with triumphant ecstasy. With a start he opened his eyes. Eliani took her hands away and looked at him, questioning.

He pushed himself up and sat rubbing his face with his hands, trying to rid himself of the memory. Eliani watched him with worried eyes.

“Was it too much?”

“No—it was nothing ... nothing to do with you.”

He drew a shuddering breath. He did feel somewhat better, though dizzy. He looked around the glen and saw the others of Eliani's party scattered at its edges, resting. Only three of the Lost were present, Kivhani not among them. Othanin sat alone beneath a thorn.

“Where have they gone?”

“Hunting.” Vanorin's voice came from nearby.

Luruthin turned his head to look at the captain, who was sitting a little way away. The Greenglen's face looked lean and strained.

“But they just hunted.”

Vanorin nodded. “This time they hunt for us. There are deer and small game in this part of the forest, they say.”

Eliani glanced at him. “We could have done our own hunting.”

“They are stronger than we at the moment, and better armed.”

Eliani made no answer. It was true that they had but two bows among them, the others having been lost in Ghlanhras. Luruthin was somewhat uncomfortable at the thought of the Lost hunting on his behalf. He could not hunt for himself, however, even had he had his bow, so he must accept their generosity.

A sound of footfalls made him look up. Three Lost were returning to the glen, their arms full of deadwood. They moved to the center of the space and began preparing to build a fire.

A fire to cook the meat. Luruthin had a mad, momentary wish that they would not bother. He was so hungry he could imagine eating raw game, though he knew it would likely make him unwell.

Eliani stood, her hand brushing near enough to Luruthin's shoulder to raise a tingle in his khi. He glanced up and saw her smile before she walked away, back down the trail. Vanorin's gaze followed her until she was out of sight. Luruthin wondered at it, then realized Vanorin was probably assuring himself she was not going into danger. Jharan had charged him with her safety, and he took the responsibility seriously.

“You should let her heal your arm.”

Vanorin glanced at him in surprise. His hand, which lay over the place where he had been cut, moved away and then back.

“It feels good, you know.”

A corner of Vanorin's mouth twitched, but did not reach a smile. “I am sure it does.”

Flame leapt up, small and golden in the center of the glen, casting shadows of the party against the thorny walls. Luruthin stirred himself to get up and move closer to the fire, taking Eliani's flask with him. Vanorin followed.

Soon Luruthin could feel the warmth on his face. The smell of the campfire was a comfort. They had not dared to build a fire before this, nor needed one in the lower lands. Here it was chill, though. While they were walking it had not mattered, but now he felt it, and was grateful for the fire's growing warmth.