SoJourner Page 17

  “Why should I trust you?”

  Rand hesitated, but then spoke the simple truth. “Because I love Mara more than life.”

  “You are Mara’s love?”

  He shook his head with regret. “She thinks little of me, but I still mean to save her.”

  “And just how do you plan to accomplish this feat?”

  Rand kept an eye on Lutz, already walking back. “I’ll help Elcon defeat Freaer, but first I need to escape from Draeg.”

  “That part’s easy. Set me free, and I’ll help you vanish into the canyons.”

  Rand eyed the tracker. “Your words come too readily.”

  Eathnor’s light-eyed gaze didn’t waver. “You ask for trust but don’t give it yourself.”

  Lutz’s proximity spared Rand from replying. “Quiet, now. The guard is near, and I’d as soon not have my throat slit for treason.”

  

  Kai stepped past the maid at the door and into Mara’s outer chamber.

  From a chair beside the window, Mara rose to greet him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Must something be amiss for me to visit you?” He held up his lute. “You asked me to teach you to play.”

  “Yes, but I hardly thought you would.”

  A smile tugged at his lips. “I’m sorry if my reply was…less than gracious. Your request surprised me, but I’d be delighted to teach you.”

  She inclined her head with a formality he’d never seen her display. “Thank you.”

  He gave her the lute and immediately had to squelch the urge to laugh. “You must hold your instrument like the friend it is. Don’t treat it like a stranger ready to rob you in your sleep. Here now, curve your fingers so the tips rest against the strings. That’s it!”

  Mara stumbled through the lesson with tortured persistence. Kai kept his patience but the tap at the door that interrupted them came as something of a relief. Traelein admitted Anders, who acknowledged Mara with a cursory nod before turning to Kai. Frown lines grooved his face. “Forgive me for interrupting, Kai, but the Lof Shraen has need of you.”

  Kai bowed to Mara. “I’m sorry to cut your first lesson short.”

  “It’s all right,” she assured him. “I can practice what you’ve shown me. I hope the matter Father summons you on is not grave.”

  “I join my hope to yours.” He bowed to her.

  In the Lof Shraen’s outer chamber, Elcon sat in a carved chair at the edge of a mat woven with silver unibeasts dancing in a strange contrast to the Elcon’s serious expression. Before Kai could finish sketching a bow, he had vaulted out of his chair. “Dorann’s wingabeast has returned without him, clawed by some forest creature.”

  Kai sucked in a breath. He had expected news of Freaer’s approach, or a meeting with Craelin, perhaps to learn that Elcon wanted his company—but not this. An image of Dorann as he’d last seen him, defiant but willingly humbled, flashed in his memory. “Surely he can not be dead.”

  Elcon paced to the window and looked out for a time without speaking. “I blame myself. He didn’t want to go, but I sent him back into the Vale of Shadows.” He faced Kai. “He seemed so tough, as if nothing could ever break him. I let myself believe nothing would.”

  “If anyone can enter the Vale of Shadows alone and live, it is Dorann. Whatever mishap has caused his wingabeast harm may not have touched him.” Kai didn’t believe the words he spoke. Why should Elcon?

  “I hope you are right. Meanwhile, I can only assume there’s a message still to deliver to Emmerich.”

  Kai didn’t hesitate. “Send me.”

  “We settled this before, or so I thought. I’ll not rob Mara of your protection, although I hope not to call upon it.”

  “I’d return with all haste.”

  “No, I tell you. I’ve made up my mind. I’d rather seek Emmerich myself.”

  Kai reined in his frustration. “That would not be wise.”

  “Even with a company of guards to protect me?”

  “You might all perish.”

  “I’ll take that risk.”

  “Just how far will you go to redeem your guilt?”

  “You speak too plainly.” Elcon rapped out the words.

  Kai fought for composure. “Forgive me, Lof Shraen, but sacrificing yourself will not save Dorann.”

  “Your words wound, Kai, but I’ll admit they also hold merit.”

  Kai had never suspected Elcon of understanding his own failing. He went on in a gentler tone. “Perhaps you should give this more thought. I can think of a Kindren who would seek Dorann with all his heart.”

  “Name him.”

  “Craelin had to restrain Jost from going to Pilaer to rescue one of his sons, an act that would surely have brought his death. I suspect he will readily go after the other.”

  “How do you know he hasn’t started after Eathnor regardless?”

  “Craelin confined him in the guardhouse for his safety.”

  Elcon subsided into his chair. “It seems I must yield to a father’s love for his child.”

  24

  FREEDOM AND SERVICE

  Rand could barely make out the outline of Draeg’s horse, just ahead, as mist rose from the ground like wraiths from their graves. He could see nothing of Lutz and Eathnor, who brought up the rear. The mist eddied ever more slowly until it thickened, muffling the roar of water in the place where Weild Aenor and Weild Rivenn met. Going on held risks, but he made no protest. Spending the night in the haunted meadow of Paiad Burien appealed less.

  Tales of the battle site known as the field of blood had circulated at Pilaer since he could remember. Here garns had ambushed the last Shraen of Braeth, who had died alongside the flower of his fighting forces, including his only son and heir. Betrayed from within, the stronghold of Braeth fell in a day, and none had the heart to rebuild it. Specters were said to haunt both the ruined hold and the ancient battleground. He’d banished the shadows of Pilaer with strength of mind and courage, but he’d rather not face Paiad Burien by night.

  Storm clouds had gathered all day, and now utter darkness descended with the rain. Even when Lutz rode ahead holding a lanthorn with flames that guttered, their pace slowed to a crawl. Rand urged Taelant forward into the dim light that tunneled around Draeg. Rand glanced behind to Eathnor. Draeg had tied the reins of the tracker’s horse to Rand’s saddle, a fact that made him attentive. Tethered as they were, if either horse fell from the path into the raging waters, the other would follow.

  A sudden outcry came from Lutz. The lanthorn light swung in a wild arc and extinguished. Lutz’s screams mingled with his horse’s shrieking. Both sounds ceased abruptly.

  Fear crawled over Rand’s skin. “What happened?”

  “Can’t you imagine?” Draeg snapped. “Lutz has gone for a swim. I never liked him much, anyway.”

  Rand shuddered. He had wished Lutz ill more than once but never by such a horrible fate. “We should turn back.”

  “And make our beds with the specters?” The panic edging Draeg’s voice brought the memory of his widened eyes and flaring nostrils while he fled the shadows of Pilaer in their early days.

  “Would you rather join Lutz in a watery grave?” Rand kept his voice level.

  “Nonsense, Misbegotten.” Lightning arched across the sodden sky, throwing Draeg’s smirking face into relief. “I have every faith in you.”

  Rand blinked rain out of his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “You must lead the way now. Light another lanthorn.”

  Rand raised his voice to be heard above a clap of thunder. “Have you considered that if I take the ride in front with the prisoner’s horse tied to mine you will bring up the rear yourself?” Somehow, he couldn’t imagine Draeg doing that. “I doubt a lanthorn will light in this downpour, regardless.”

  “You’ll not persuade me to go back, no matter what you say,” Draeg said in a shrill voice.

  Rand called upon the same tone he’d used to calm Draeg after an encounter with the shadows of Pilae
r. “I don’t want to turn around either, but this far from Paiad Burien, we can safely wait out the storm.”

  “All right, then, but you go first.”

  Rand dismounted in another flash of lightning, more comfortable guiding them off the path by testing the ground on foot. The sky lit up again, revealing boulders and rain-flattened grasses huddled against the canyon wall. “This way!” He turned to call. Thunder shook the ground.

  Draeg had already dismounted and now forged ahead with more speed than caution.

  Drawing the dagger he’d used during his fight with Urwen, Rand severed the ropes tying Eathnor to the animal. The sky flared again, and he slipped his blade between the tracker’s wrists and cut the cord that bound them. Eathnor’s startled face looked down into his, and then darkness swallowed them.

  Rain lashed Rand’s face. Thunder boomed. The horses stamped and snorted. Holding their reins, he ran beside Eathnor toward the canyon wall. It bent outward overhead, but offered little shelter as the rain drove sideways. Rand crouched, hunching over in an instinctive posture to wait out the wretched night. Hunched over in a sea of thunder and rain, darkness and light, he lost all sense of time.

  The rain eased at last, but the wind still buffeted him. Draeg sat against the canyon wall with his head bowed, either fast asleep or too miserable to watch his reluctant companions.

  “Come with me.” Eathnor breathed near Rand’s ear.

  He repressed a start.

  Draeg muttered and stirred but did not wake.

  Rand hesitated, his heartbeat loud in his ears. All the times his half-brother had mocked him, beaten him, and maligned his mother ran through his mind. He saw again her tear-stained face, and then an image of the murdered youth hanging from the sacrificial pole. His jaw tensed, and his fingers gripped the hilt of his dagger.

  He could kill Draeg with the flick of his blade. A sick feeling shot through him. He shook so violently that he nearly dropped his dagger. His shoulders slumped. Draeg deserved to die, but not by a brother’s hand.

  A horse nickered and hooves stamped. Rand sprang into action and soon rode his horse away from Draeg behind Eathnor’s onto the path, now gleaming blue in the moonlight. Mist hung like a low cloud above the roaring weild. Overhead, a gibbous moon floated on wispy rafts.

  He spared a pang for Draeg, sleeping alone and unguarded, but hardened his resolve. . Draeg had more than earned any consequences, should they come his way. He needed to rid himself of the hope that his half-brother could ever be different. It sapped his resolve. He knew the truth. Draeg would torment them without mercy if he tracked them down.

  

  Footsteps echoed through the allerstaed, and Elcon looked up from kneeling at the prayer rail.

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, Lof Shraen,” Kai said. “Graelinn sends an urgent message.”

  Elcon rose to his feet. “Freaer’s forces will have begun to move. Has another guardian gone to Emmerich?”

  “Dithmar has, but it will be days before his return.”

  “And so, whether Torindan stands or falls becomes a matter of timing.” He stood and looked about the chamber. “I’ve stayed away from the allerstaed far too long. Why must I wait for trouble to drive me to it?”

  “It seems a common failing. Did you pray for Torindan?”

  “Yes, and for Faeraven, but I came for a more selfish reason—to seek my own peace.”

  “And have you found it?”

  His gaze flicked away from Kai’s. “Perhaps I don’t deserve peace.”

  “Does anyone? And yet, Lof Yuel may smile upon us yet.”

  Elcon tilted his head as he considered Kai’s words. “I’ve always admired your faith. It makes my own disbelief stand out.”

  Kai laughed. “I’m not convinced you are as doubtful as you wish to seem.”

  “How well you know me. I should say instead that believing sometimes asks more than I care to give.”

  He started for the strongwood doors beneath the central archway at the rear of the allerstaed, and Kai kept pace. “Surrendering your will is the challenge. I have struggled with that myself of late.”

  “It becomes a wearisome business.”

  “Yet faith rewards the devoted.”

  “I’m glad of that. I have an idea I’ll need to call upon what remains of mine soon.”

  

  Mara thrust the lute away from her and ran a hand over the knotted muscles at the nape of her neck. Her fingers ached from strumming, plucking, and pressing the strings, and her mind wearied of remembering the finger positions Kai had shown her. She sighed. Learning to play an instrument demanded a lot from a person. Tomorrow would be soon enough to try again.

  She stood up from the bench before the fireplace in her outer chamber and stretched her arms upward. The kinks in her back eased. She’d wanted to play the lute to find a way to live after she left Torindan, but now the urge to create music drove her as well. Where that came from, she didn’t know. She’d always sang when going about her duties at the inn. Others had remarked on her voice, but she’d never thought herself musical.

  From her tall window, she looked over the inner garden. The day had dressed itself in golds and greens and the aching blue of a rain-washed sky. The storm that had woken her early had passed, leaving behind fresh puddles already drying in the wind. While gazing upon such serenity, she found it hard to believe death could be marching toward Torindan. On a not-so-distant day smoke would foul the air and the screams of the dying replace the harmonies of birds. This people and the war they fought did not belong to her. Why should she remain and risk death?

  Mara’s mouth went dry at the thought. She should leave now, while there was still time to escape. Traelein would help her escape Torindan. She closed her eyes until the panic that gripped her eased.

  How could she leave her father when she was beginning to love him? Arillia had softened to the point where Mara almost dared hope for true acceptance. Neither of them could take Mam and Da’s place in her heart, but they occupied one of their own.

  She belonged at Torindan with more certainty than she ever had anywhere before, and it was finally beginning to feel like home. If only it could survive a siege, she could go on building a new life within its walls.

  Maybe she shouldn’t run away to become a bard, after all.

  A knock interrupted her musings, followed by soft footfalls. Her outer chamber door swung inward, and Traelein curtsied with delicate grace.

  Arillia graced the doorway, part of her hair coiled in plaits around her head and the rest flowing down her back beyond her knees. A delicate wingabeast wrought of gold, its wings spread like fans and its hooves shod with diamonds, rested in one of her hands.

  “Lof Raelein.” Mara curtsied also. “You honor me. Pray come in. Can I offer you a seat?”

  Arillia shook her head. “I can’t stay long, but I thought you might like this ornament to wear in your hair.”

  “Thank you. It’s finer than anything I’ve ever owned.”

  “Jewels should bedeck a lof raena as lovely as you. We must make certain of it. It is only a matter of time before admirers vie for your favor and bards sing ballads in your honor.”

  Mara’s smile faltered.

  Arillia frowned. “What troubles you?”

  “I’m sorry to disagree, but my future may not hold jewels and admirers and ballads.”

  Arillia sank onto a bench beside one of the windows and patted the cushion beside her. “Come and let us speak plainly.”

  “All right.” Mara joined Arillia.

  The Lof Raelein’s gray eyes fixed on her. “I am told you know of the siege.”

  Mara clasped her hands in her lap, warning herself not to fidget. “Father told me of it, and now I can think of little else. What if Torindan falls?”

  Arillia’s hand settled over hers, its warmth soothing. “We must not let fear rule us.”

  She bowed her head. “I have nothing to put in its place.”

  “Where
is your courage? If we lose heart, Freaer will already have won.”

  

  Rand dreaded to think what would happen if Draeg found them. Eathnor had lit Rand’s lanthorn, a difficult feat in the dampness for anyone but a tracker Taking turns lighting the way, they had traveled without ceasing, although mud under the horse’s hooves made progress slow. When the wind and sun at last dried the path, leaving only puddles, Rand urged Taelant to a greater speed. But weariness dogged him, and he fought to keep his eyes open, jerking upright in time to save a fall from the saddle.

  Eathnor seemed unaffected, so Rand made no protest throughout the long hours.

  Late in the day, shadows lengthened and mists drifted down the canyon walls. Rand reined in his horse and followed Eathnor off the path to search for a place to rest along the banks of Weild Aenor.

  “Here!” Eathnor called back to him.

  Rand caught up to him in a place where boulders dotted stony banks.

  Rand slid from Taelant’s back while Eathnor dismounted. After watering their horses, Rand pulled several packets of elk jerky from his saddlebag. He tossed one to Eathnor, and the tracker caught it with deft skill. Rand sat beside him on a boulder and untied the coarse cord from a bundle of jerky wrapped in kaba leaves.

  Eathnor glanced sideways. “Thank you for feeding me yesterday morning. It meant a lot.”

  Rand gave a nod. “I’ve known hunger.” He tore into the jerky. They ate in silence while the horses cropped the grasses along the bank and a breeze brought the scent of water.

  Eathnor stood and stretched. “The boulders will shelter us from view this night, but we should take turns sleeping, all the same.”

  “We can’t delay long. Draeg will stop at nothing to find us.”

  “I gathered as much.” Eathnor propped a booted foot on the boulder and clasped his knee. “He is your brother?”

  “Of a sort. We are born of different mothers but the same wretched father.”

  “But wait. Freaer is your father?”