The White Arrow

by P. H. Solomon

  "What's going on here?" Sarneth suddenly stepped into their midst with three squads of rangers at his back. "Everyone put your weapons away."

  Limbreth sheathed her swords, along with everyone else. Makwi chuckled, and Sarneth eyed him.

  Dareth turned to Sarneth. "I'm carrying out my sworn duty to my king by returning this errant lady to her father so we can be wed."

  Limbreth crossed her arms and stood straighter. "And I'm not going. I'll stick my foot up your—"

  Sarneth pointed at Limbreth. "You'll do no such thing, Princess. You're in Auguron City, and I'd rather not have another war to fight besides the trolls marching on this city. Work out your lover's quarrel, but leave the threats and weapons out of it."

  Limbreth snorted and lifted her chin at Sarneth. "Lover's quarrel? Hardly that." She motioned to Dareth. "He's a jumped-up—"

  "King's emissary." Sarneth stepped further into the crowd. "You didn't inform me of who you were when you arrived with Hastra." He actually glared at the Withling. "But you'll work this out civilly in this city."

  Limbreth spread her feet. Where was her horse when she needed it? "I'm not going anywhere with this man. I—"

  "Uh, Lord Dareth." Everyone turned to Hastra as she stepped forward. She nodded to Limbreth. "Lady Limbreth has just returned from a long and arduous journey during which she dispatched numerous trolls alongside those of us sharing her journey. She and our whole group are weary. Would you allow Lady Limbreth to refresh herself and visit you in the morning?" Hastra glanced at Sarneth. "Say, in Captain Sarneth's receiving rooms?"

  Limbreth didn't wait for Dareth's answer. "Suits me fine. C'mon, Athson." She grabbed Athson, not by the arm as if he were escorting her, but by his hand. "Let's go find something to eat before I really get rude." She strode past Dareth with Athson and straight through the column of gathered horsemen, making them shift out of formation. She was a royal princess of Grendon, after all.

  Behind her, Limbreth heard Makwi laugh. "Ax-maids—you just gotta love watching them fight, with weapons or with their tongues."

  Limbreth imagined the dwarf shaking his head as he set out following her. Tordug added a laugh, and she even heard Ralda's deep laugh echo along the street.

  She leaned close to Athson. "I told you, didn't I?"

  She just hoped she didn't eat those words.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Athson and Limbreth found the Broken Bow Inn crowded with patrons. Their friends entered the tavern soon after the two of them and claimed various benches. Rangers and other citizens of Auguron City mingled with various merchants and travelers from all over Denaria. Even a few Grendonese soldiers from Dareth's contingent sat in the crowd.

  The latest news and rumors floated in the chatter around Athson and Limbreth as they sat on a bench. The people around them ignored them as they received mugs of ale and wine. Limbreth perked up at the sound of nearby dwarves speaking in their tongue, while Athson listened to several rangers beside him and sipped his ale.

  "Will they make it ahead of the trolls?" one of the rangers, an officer, asked of another officer.

  The other officer shrugged. "Reports from Marston's auxiliaries indicate they've been successful delaying the trolls. They'll still be here within the week, though. I suspect any travelers from the east will pour into the city or just head on west or south."

  Athson hoped the best for Minith and her two rangers escorting their refugees. It was a long trip, but they were sure to arrive with Marston leading some resistance. Athson sipped his ale and licked the froth from his lips. It had been too long since he'd rested like this.

  Athson sat next to his mother as they piled their gear about them or on the table. The others found seats at surrounding tables. Limbreth squeezed in beside Athson on his other side. He turned to his mother. "I can't believe you're really here! There's so much we need to talk about."

  Danilla kissed Athson's cheek and held his attention with a smile. "This is all beyond my hope. A true blessing of Eloch. We can speak more in a quiet place." She grabbed his hand. "For now, it's enough to have you at my side. I've returned to my boy at last."

  Athson squeezed his mother's hand. "I have a home. It was my foster-parents but they died, murdered by Corgren's magic. I'll move you in there are soon as we have a chance."

  "A home of my own again? How wonderful!" Danilla's face dropped, her expression suddenly drawn. "But others died and left it empty. And all the friends I ever had are gone too." Tears brimmed at her eyes. She wiped them away with a trembling smile. "But we have each other and a place to live after all the troubles."

  Athson kissed his mother's hand. "It's not the same there without Heth and Cireena, my foster-parents. They would be pleased to have you. We won't have father. But we'll have what we need. We'll make a home for ourselves when this fight is over."

  After a pause with Athson's mother, Limbreth nudged him in the ribs, and he turned to her. "Sorry about all that in the street. I didn't know he was coming all this way. Like I said, I don't want him. I didn't mean to drag you into the disagreement." She sipped her wine and eyed him over the rim of her cup.

  Athson took a deep breath. He'd almost lost his temper back in the street. He gripped his sword, and the tension in his shoulders subsided. "I get it. I guess you made it clear when we left where we stood." Was it time to talk now? He'd let her decide.

  "I did say as much to you back in Ezhandun." But her face bore an uncertain expression, almost a question as she gazed at him.

  Athson rubbed his chin and searched for the right thing to say. "You backed that up in the street." He shrugged. "Good enough for me, I guess. What are you going to tell him?"

  Limbreth grimaced and shrugged. "That I'm not going with him. I'll see this through with you and the others." She ended with a sharp nod.

  Athson sipped his ale. As much as he could expect. He grabbed her hand and held it. They still needed that talk she wanted, whatever that was about. The White Arrow, most likely.

  He motioned toward the nearby dwarves with the mug in his hand. "What are they saying?"

  Limbreth leaned closer. "All dwarves are pulling out of the city and heading south. They want none of the fight, and most don't want the trouble. I guess they're more interested in their current affairs than killing trolls. A few said they'd like to stay and help, but they think it's doomed. Corgren will win, in their minds." Limbreth shook her head in disgust. "Tordug and Makwi will hear from where they're sitting. But the wandering Chokkrans have an air of defeatism and lack inspiration." She shrugged. "Well, they could do a lot, but they don't think it's their fight even if they've been living in Auguron for a while."

  Athson drained his mug. "Too bad. Though I doubt Sarneth would hire any of them either. Not his way, and likely not enough money. They've been planning for this a long time. I just hope everyone coming this way makes it or gets away otherwise."

  She pointed into the crowd. "I heard someone say a few boats are heading upriver to offer stragglers a chance to head east or downriver."

  He considered that and shrugged. "I suppose they can pole and row upriver after picking up passengers. But who knows how many trolls will lurk farther east, and most everything will be burned by now. Most elves would just come here anyway."

  "Yeah, I guess the merchants and tradesmen from elsewhere just want to get away and do business wherever they can until this invasion blows over." Limbreth slouched with a look of unease.

  Athson touched her free hand again. "Look, don't worry about what happened in the street. I know you didn't plan that. You stood up for yourself."

  She responded with a half-hearted laugh. "What, Dareth? I hated making a scene, but I'm not worried about him. It's just, other things are—complicated."

  "Want to talk about it now? I mean, we already declared our interest in each other before your father's emissary." Athson held his breath, as much for her reply as for the fact that he'd actually threatened his rival for Limbreth's affections, who happen
ed to represent her father's interests.

  "Not here." She frowned and drained her cup of wine.

  "What about out back? Maybe there's a quiet spot somewhere." If he read her mood correctly, whatever hesitation she'd displayed back at the dock had changed with the confrontation in the street with Dareth. He offered her his best why not expression.

  She looked around the crowded room and sighed. "I guess. No avoiding things with Dareth here. Lead the way."

  They gathered her gear and walked out the back door into the stable-yard. Outside, they found Limbreth's horse already delivered. It trotted toward her for a greeting, and she doted over the animal. "How did you get here?"

  Athson scratched the back of his neck. "If I know them at all, either Hastra or Tordug got Sarneth to send it here with any others the lot of you had on the boats."

  They left the horse, exited the yard, and walked down a side street until foot traffic eased to nearly empty. Athson paused between two buildings and leaned against a wall. "So what's on your mind?"

  Limbreth crossed her arms and paced a few steps away then back to him, then retraced her steps several more times.

  Athson sighed. "Look, we've not seen each other since Howart's cave. I know there's a lot to tell, but nothing's changed." Or had it? His stomach suddenly knotted. Maybe he'd have to tell her about the Funnel. Gweld thought he'd have to some time. He suddenly didn't want to talk that much. He was about to suggest they just go back inside the inn or go arrange for their rooms when Limbreth stopped in front of him and gazed at her shoes.

  "Things might change." She lifted her gaze to his. "I don't know how to say it all." Her lips trembled with emotion.

  He released a long, slow breath. Maybe it wasn't such a good time to talk after all. "Maybe it can wait. I mean, you're still upset about Dareth."

  "It's not about him at all. It's about other things. I need to know something." She paced away again.

  Athson suddenly wanted another mug of ale and a meal. But based on the flutter in his stomach, he wasn't too sure about the meal.

  She returned to him. "I—I just don't know if I'm good for you, is all." She flopped her arms like wings for a moment, clearly frustrated.

  She turned away with her arms crossed, but Athson drew her back to face him, though she stood with her face downcast. "What do you mean? I've missed you so much. I was so worried for you. I thought you died at the Funnel, and then I found out you'd been to Marston's Station." He remembered how his heart had soared out of his remorse and grief at the news. "I felt so—"

  Limbreth kissed him suddenly.

  "What was that for?"

  "You don't like it?" She gazed at him through her eyelashes, her face slightly lowered and her expression blank.

  She expected something, he knew that. "Well, yeah, but you just said you didn't know if I wanted you. What's that all about?"

  Limbreth closed her eyes and pressed her lips tightly together. "It's just that, I seem to keep failing you."

  His brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? You've been on the journey every step. You want to stay for this fight. I don't understand."

  A thin smile crawled onto her face. "Hastra said you should be glad you had me along."

  "I am." He certainly was. "You've put up with a lot out of me."

  "I kissed you because you're glad to have me along."

  He sighed. This was confusing. "Then why are you upset?"

  Her face scrunched like she experienced sudden pain. "I just keep failing. Like with the banshee."

  "That again? We settled that long ago, back in Chokkra. I really meant it that I don't blame you for any of it." Why was she still on that? He watched her as she struggled with her next statements.

  "I'm not what everyone thinks I am." She paused and watched her words sink into his understanding. "Makwi talked like I was a hero back on the street."

  Athson snorted. "If you're not, then you're the closest thing to it I've ever seen."

  Limbreth shook her head. "No, I'm not. I'm a coward."

  He groaned. "How could you think that?"

  "It's true. And not just that, but I keep making mistakes that put us in danger." She crossed her arms.

  Athson hugged her with her arms still crossed. "The whole journey was dangerous. I made plenty of mistakes too, but we made it."

  She squirmed free of his embrace and held up one finger. "First, back at Nazh-akun, when they attacked the tower, I ran instead of staying with you. The Bane was near, and I ran. Like a coward."

  She'd run then? "I thought you just went with your assigned group to escape. But it doesn't matter, we all had to leave. And the Bane isn't something you can defeat."

  She motioned to the blessed sword on Athson's hip. "You have that, and I could have stayed. I panicked and ran after the others when I wanted to stay."

  "Limbreth, you aren't a coward. You've stood up to the Bane. I saw that much on the Funnel. You struggled then. Word has it you fought it on the boat."

  "And that leads to other things." She held up a second finger. "I should have gone with you to see Howart, because you had the sword. You said you'd watch after me with the Bane loose. We knew they were coming, but I stayed back instead of staying with you and going ahead. Instead, I got captured. Otherwise, you—we—might have saved your father."

  Athson sighed. It could have been different. Maybe. Maybe not. "I don't think you're being fair to yourself. I don't think worse of you."

  "Then there's the next part." She held up a third finger. "I had the White Arrow. I was holding it for you. But I got it broken before you ever even knew about it." She spread her hands, palms up, at her waist. "So there. I've failed you, and I don't know why I should even be around with that record of failure."

  He hugged her again. "Oh, Limbreth. I do want you around, and you're not as much trouble as you think. Eloch will do something about the arrow." Her arms wrapped around his waist. "You think no one else has made mistakes these last months?" He swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. Best tell her now. "I've made them too. I—I chose poorly on the Funnel. I had a shot at the Bane. But Corgren threatened my mother and I—I wanted revenge so badly. I tried to kill him instead."

  They stood in silence for long moments in their embrace.

  Then Limbreth stirred in his arms. She pulled back from him. Her eyes narrowed with a question. "You what?"

  His heart pounded in his ears at the tone of her question. "I shot at Corgren in revenge when I should have tried for the Bane. I don't know if it would have done anything to help you. It didn't with Corgren." He swallowed. Not a satisfactory answer, judging by the sudden anger in her eyes.

  Limbreth stepped back, her head cocked and an expression of confusion on her face. "You didn't try to help me? Or your father? You just tried to kill Corgren for vengeance?" She stopped speaking, her mouth opening and closing several times without words.

  Athson spread his hands in explanation. "Yes, I messed up. Remember the curse? It takes over, and Corgren knew what to say to get my reaction. It was—it was my responsibility, and I failed."

  Limbreth's nostrils flared with her quick breaths. Without another word, she whirled and walked away.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Magdronu-as-Gweld watched Athson and Limbreth down the side street as he feigned getting some fresh air, his mug of ale in his hand. The conversation ebbed and flowed for several minutes. Across the distance, Magdronu sensed the apprehension in Limbreth and the confused uncertainty from Athson. Take that advice, Athson. Tell her.

  Instead, they embraced. The ploy hadn't worked. Magdronu-as-Gweld opened the door to go back inside the inn. He'd have to try another ploy to get Athson to hand over the Bow of Hart.

  Movement caught his eye. Limbreth pulled away from Athson, her posture rigid. Interesting. Athson followed with an imploring gesture, explaining himself. Maybe the ploy had worked. Magdronu-as-Gweld watched as Limbreth questioned Athson again. She wheeled away from him and stalked along the s
treet, her face a mixture of anger, confusion, and shock.

  Limbreth spotted Gweld and kept walking, her face set, concealing her emotions. She walked beyond view, presumably around the front of the inn.

  Magdronu-as-Gweld smirked as his gaze returned to Athson, who leaned against a wall, his head pressed against his forearm. Athson pounded on the wall with the bottom of his fist. It had worked. Wedge driven between the two lovers. Now to play Athson further and seal Magdronu’s control of the outcome. He'd seize victory now.

  Athson grabbed his things, caught Magdronu-as-Gweld's attention, and signaled that he was going to find room at the ranger barracks. Magdronu-as-Gweld signaled he'd be along later. He sat and called to Corgren with his magic.

  Corgren's presence opened to Magdronu after some minutes passed. 'Great One, I answer your summons.'

  'How far away are you?' He allowed a purr of pleasure along the spell's connection.

  'We are struggling as you asked we do.' Corgren's devotion flowed across the communication spell.

  'And the shrine? I've just arrived in the city today, but I don't want to give anything away by going to it—yet.'

  'It progresses well enough with what magic is available. It should be ready in six days.'

  Magdronu let someone pass on the back steps of the inn. Alone again, he continued, 'How soon can you arrive?'

  Corgren hesitated, no doubt considering his answer well. 'If I eliminate the resistance, we can slaughter those upon the road and be there in four days’ time.'

  Magdronu-as-Gweld sipped his ale and slowly savored it. He did like some things these mortals made, after all. 'I'll have my hands on the Bow of Hart the fifth night. Spring your surprises that night, and we shall make use of the shrine the next day to seal my victory.’

  'Master, I obey. To your victory!' Magdronu-as-Gweld could almost feel Corgren's shout across the spell, though he had not the power to send such trivialities.

  Magdronu let the spell close. He sipped the ale and continued to savor it as if the long journey mattered. He drained the last of the drink and shook his head. He’d better have a few more. No telling how much would be available after the next week.