by Eileen Wilks
Kai just smiled and stood. Her back twinged and she twisted, stretching it out.
"Not going to tell me, huh?"
"No." She looked at the others in the room. Most of the villagers had cleared out when they arrived, taking the dead with them to the ice house to await burial, but the one they called the sheriff remained. He was the tall, bearded man sitting at one of the two intact tables, nursing a mug of ale and keeping an eye on them. He'd answered their questions honestly, if tersely. The man sitting with him was the innkeeper, who hadn't answered honestly—until he realized Kai knew it when he lied. Since then, he'd been more afraid of her than of Nathan.
Foolish man. She looked across the room at Nathan.
He sat on the floor between Dell and the gut-wounded guard, whom they'd laid close to the fire's warmth. He'd done what he could for the man—and that was rather a lot. The wound was neatly closed now, and when he laid his hands on the man's head, the moaning stopped.
Kai's anxiety shot up—but the man's colors were still there. Subdued now, with the pain colors fading. She started toward them.
Nathan met her partway. "I don't think he'll make it," he said softly. "I've done what I can with the wound, but he's lost a great deal of blood, and infection is likely. I put him back in sleep. It won't last. His pain will rouse him again in a few hours, but he will rest deeply until then."
Kai nodded, brushed her hair back from her face—then remembered the blood on her hand. She grimaced. "If only we hadn't been delayed in that last village! To miss them by only hours—"
"Couldn't be helped. And it may be just as well. Dell and I are very good, but I am not sure we could have killed fifty Ahk warriors."
"The sorcerer would have burned some of them." And maybe she could have changed their minds. Or maybe she would just have made them crazy. Fifty insane Ahk warriors would likely be even worse than the regular sort.
Kai chewed on her lip. "Nathan, I can't do this the way the queen wants me to. People are dying."
He was silent a beat too long, his expression stilling. "What do you mean?"
"She doesn't want us to reveal ourselves or let anyone know she sent us, but—"
"If the gnomes knew Winter was meddling in this realm, the power balance here and in other realms would be disrupted. More deaths, Kai. Possibly many more."
"There aren't any gnomes with the party from Earth. Not anymore."
He considered that. After a moment he nodded. "It's your quest. If you believe the time is right… we have to catch up to them first, of course."
She sighed. "I suppose we'd better eat before we set out."
Nathan laughed softly. "Kai, Kai. We will eat, yes, and also sleep. Even if you were able to go on without rest, the horses can't."
This was one of those times when their senses of humor didn't mesh. She knew Nathan wasn't heartless, but at the moment, laughter was very far away for her. She turned her head, swallowing the hard words she knew she'd regret later.
"Kai." He put his hand beneath her chin, stroking her there as if she were Dell. "I have lived long enough to know that I do not help others by taking on their grief. We are doing what we must. These people will do as they must, also."
"I guess I—"
"Hsst!" That came from the innkeeper's wife, who was tending the other patient laid out near the hearth. "She's waking up," the woman said. "You said to let you know if she did."
They crossed to see. Nathan had spent most of his time working on the guard because this woman, while she'd looked dead, had been unconscious from a blow to the head. The deep, bloody wound in her chest from a sword thrust had miraculously missed anything vital, and Nathan had said that the woman's own healing ability was sufficient. Since Kai could see from her colors that she had a minor healing Gift in addition to whatever natural healing ability she possessed, she hadn't argued.
She was not as pretty as the feline woman. Though Kai had yet to see an Ahk, she'd been told what they looked like. This woman's skin and short tusks proclaimed her kinship to them, though she'd fought on the side of the party from Earth.
"Who are you?" the woman demanded weakly when Kai knelt beside her.
"I'm Kai, and this is Nathan. What is your name?"
"I'm…" Her eyes widened when she looked at Nathan. "You! You're a—"
"Eh!" he said hastily. "I'd rather you didn't say it. You're the first to recognize me, and I'm wondering how."
"Then it's true?" She looked shocked. "I didn't know you could—"
"As I said, I don't wish it spoken of." He spoke with authority this time, a subtle shift that was probably not simply a matter of voice. He looked at the innkeeper's wife, who was staring, her colors turned fearful. "You may go now."
The woman gathered herself to her feet and hurried away without a word.
Nathan looked down at the injured woman. "You may tell me how you knew me, now. And your name."
"I shouldn't have said anything about recognizing you." She was bitter. "My brains are addled from the blow."
"But you did speak of it," Nathan said gently. "Your name? You may give me a call-name, if you wish."
"I am called Tash."
"And you recognized me because—?"
At first it seemed she might not answer, but finally she gave a small sigh. "I've a bit of a healing Gift, nothing major, but it lets me sense bodies directly… I saw the Hunt once, you see."
"Ah." Nathan nodded. "I'm afraid I must make sure you don't speak of this." He bent and reached for her head with both hands.
* * *
CHAPTER THIRTY
The Ahk were beyond hardy. They were machines, Cynna concluded, every muscle in her body protesting the need to stay in the saddle. Stupid, bloody, barbarian cyborgs.
It was Cynna's third solid "day" of riding up winding mountain trails, and the first when the snow hadn't stopped. Her poor horse wasn't happy, either. It had to be a bitch, climbing up this miserable excuse for a trail where the snow was several inches deep in places.
The mountain trail coincided with the one only she could sense. But she hadn't told her captors that. Chulak—the big son of a bitch who led them—had told her scornfully that he did not need her to tell him where an intruder had crossed Ahk land. He could follow that trail himself. She would be needed, he said, only after they left the mountains.
Before they'd reached those mountains, Wen had ridden off in the other direction. She still didn't know why he'd done it. Money or wealth of some sort, she gathered; Chulak had said something to him about his payment. But what payment could have made him betray so many? His own people would hunt him down if they found out. The Ekiba's wandering existence was possible because of their neutrality.
Maybe he hadn't seen it as betrayal. She'd learned that the Ekiba were the only exception to the "no outsiders" rule about Ahk land, and Wen had served as one of the Ekiba communicators in these mountains several years ago. He'd lived with them; maybe his loyalties had shifted.
Probably she'd never know. But she'd liked him, dammit. She'd liked him.
No one had died since they left the village, at least. Cynna reminded herself of that, hunting for something to lift her spirits from dead zero. And Cullen had gotten safely away, even if that hadn't been what he meant to do… and even if she wished fiercely that he were here with her. Stupid thing to wish, since the Ahk were determined to kill them all slowly, from exhaustion.
She flexed her fingers on the reins, trying to get some feeling back. They'd given her mittens, even a furry cloak with a hood, but the higher they climbed, the colder it got. Even Chicago wasn't this cold… though admittedly she'd never tried riding through that city on horseback for hours in the middle of snowstorm.
At least she was uninjured. Cynna gripped the horse's barrel as firmly as she could with her aching legs, and twisted to look behind her.
Through the snow she saw the dark horse of the Ahk behind her, the one riding double so he could support Daniel Weaver. Daniel had woken
from his concussion soon after they left the village, but the damned Ahk wouldn't stop. Daniel had thrown up twice that first day and been unable to eat before the sleep period last night.
The next morning, though, the Ahk who doubled as healer had done something for him. His face was still the color of freshly churned slush on a city street, but he no longer threw up.
He smiled at her now, trying to reassure her. Cynna stretched her lips in the best smile she could manage, and faced front again.
Ahead of her was a horse's rump, partly covered by the fur cloak of the Ahk riding it. Not much of a view, no distraction at all when her mind wanted to cruise back over everything that had happened, dipping into horror like it was a loose tooth, picking at the places where she might have done things differently. As if that could change anything.
The horse's rump rounded a curve of rock and vanished.
That wasn't especially interesting, since she'd seen it happen dozens of times. This trail wound around like crazy. But a moment later her horse rounded that same curve, and she saw the cave ahead. It was deep, with a wide mouth and a fire. A big, blazing fire, and people were in it and getting off their bloody horses.
Her mount got excited, too. It picked up its weary head and moved a little quicker, eager for shelter and warmth. Moments later she was out of the snow and one of the Ahk caught her horse's halter. She swung her leg over… or tried to. Her muscles cramped and refused to obey. She bit her lip.
The warrior shook his head in disgust, reached up, and lifted her off. She promptly slid to the damp, rocky floor of the cave.
"Liniment," Cynna said, her eyes closed. And to her disgust, tears seeped out from under her eyelids as she thought about Cullen getting her that liniment, laughing at her for needing it, promising to rub it in for her…
"Humans are very puny," said her charm.
It was speaking for the Ahk leader. The Ahk were divided into clans, and Chulak—unlike most people in Edge, Ahk didn't keep their names secret—was the leader of his clan, only more like a combination of Rho and Rhej: the big boss and the high priest. She opened her eyes and glared at him. "You'd better take good care of this puny human or she'll die, and then what will you do?"
"You are not dying." He was indifferent.
"You'd better take care of the other humans, too. If my father dies—"
"You will refuse to find the medallion for me?" Chulak smiled, or gave his version of a smile. It looked pretty ghastly. His tusks were longer than Tash's had been. "I think not. You will wish the others to live. And yourself."
"Maybe. Or maybe I'll decide that the death of an entire realm would be a fitting memorial to him."
He hesitated just long enough to make her think he might buy it. "Get up. You are not injured, and you make yourself ridiculous and shame my niece's sacrifice."
"I liked your niece. I don't like you." As comebacks go, that one wasn't much, but it had the benefit of being true. Tash had been the niece of this overgrown bully of a religious zealot—unacknowledged because he wouldn't allow tainted blood into his clan, and Tash had been half human. Once she was safely dead and unable to reproduce, though, he claimed her. Bastard.
He'd already turned away to give other people orders. Steve approached. He walked stiffly, but unlike her, he'd stayed upright after dismounting. It made her feel like the weakling Chulak had named her. "I've got the liniment," he said, and held out a hand.
"Bless you." She took it and let him help her to her feet, not bothering to stifle her groan. Everything hurt. "Thanks. And that liniment would be where—?"
He reached inside his fur cloak and pulled out the green bottle. "Just give it back when you're through." He looked over his shoulder at Chulak, his narrow face tight with anger. "Unless you can figure a way to poison him with it."
"If it didn't kill him straight off, he'd probably decapitate someone to show his annoyance."
"Sooner or later," Steve said, staring at the big Ahk. "Sooner or later, we'll get a chance."
He meant it, which worried her. Trying to kill Chulak was a short route to having all your questions about the afterlife answered.
This cave was apparently a planned stop, or maybe one they used regularly. They had hay and oats stored here for the horses and dried food and water for the people. There were skins of the thin, sour wine the Ahk liked, too, but Cynna was avoiding alcohol, so she stuck with the water.
The horses were lined up around the front of the cave, where their bodies blocked the wind and their body heat contributed to the warmth of the fire, making it almost comfortable inside.
Cynna had discarded modesty almost as thoroughly as a lupus. She simply found a shadowy corner where she could partially strip and, shivering, rub in the liniment. It burned worse than Ben Gay at first, but subsided to a gentle heat that helped. After she pulled her clothes back on, she did some stretches while the Ahk tended the horses. They were big on caring for their horses before anything else.
Two of them had gone back into the storm with short shovels; before the last horse was lovingly rubbed down, the captives were escorted, one at a time, to the freshly dug latrine pit.
Cynna went first because of her supposed status as their leader. She didn't object. The guys could stop along the trail and empty their bladders if they had to without slowing everyone down—or treating the entire company to a view of their freezing backsides.
When she returned, she took her rations to the side of the cave designated for her party and sat. She was too tired to be hungry, but she chewed the jerky and journey-cake methodically, washing down each bite with water, knowing she needed the fuel. So did the little rider.
That made her tired eyes water again, dammit. She thought of Cullen and how much the baby meant to him.
Gan came back from the latrine next and ate in grim, hasty silence. Sure enough, she hadn't quite stuffed the last bite in when Chulak called her. The Ahk had decided Gan would do for a servant—or slave—and had been giving her chores at every stop. Cynna had protested, but Chulak was, as usual, massively indifferent. The little one was strong and hardy, he said, unlike the humans; she could do her share of the work.
Her share included anything the Ahk didn't want to do—encouraged by a kick or blow if she balked.
Daniel came back next and settled beside Cynna. He looked ill, but smiled at her. She wanted to tell him to quit doing that. She knew he hurt. "Eat," she said instead, handing him one of the journeycakes.
He looked at it and sighed, but dutifully broke off a piece and put it in his mouth.
Moments later, Steve joined them. "And to think I used to like mountains," he said glumly, ripping a bite off his jerky with his teeth. "Rock climbing, anyway."
"You do the pitons and belaying and all that?" Cynna asked. He nodded, his mouth full. "Well, there's just one mountain left, and we're on it." She finished the last of her journeycake and eyed the jerky. It was her least favorite component of the meal. Oh, well. She popped it in and started chewing.
"You memorized the maps that well?"
Cynna shook her head, chewed some more, and finally swallowed. "I'm a Finder, remember? If I can Find mountains, I can Find not-mountains. I think we'll be off this one sometime tomorrow."
"I didn't know you could Find something as general as mountains, much less not-mountains."
"Most Finders can't." Finding the generic rather than the specific involved doing multiple Finds simultaneously—not easy, but she hadn't had much else to do other than avoid falling off her horse. She flashed him a grin, only a trifle forced. "I'm good."
"More to the point, maybe, is where will we be when we come down from the mountains?" Daniel said. "I know Edge geography generally, but not with the kind of specificity that can tell me where I am now. Other than in Ahk territory, obviously."
"That, I can't tell you. Not for sure. But I think we'll come out in Leerahan, maybe close to where it butts into Rohen."
No one said a word, but they all exchanged glan
ces. Leerahan was one of the big sidhe estates. Rohen was another. Rohen was also where Cullen had gone, snatched up by what he'd thought was a communication charm. Or so they assumed. All they really knew was that he'd vanished.
It was possible, just possible, that he'd persuade the Rohen liege… what was her name? Theil. That he'd persuade Theil to come to their rescue. Even if he did, the sidhe would have to find them, and if they did, they'd probably insist that Cynna Find the medallion for them.
Better them, though, than Chulak. Better anyone than Chulak. Edge would be in deep shit if he managed to form a bond with the thing and started remaking the realm to suit him.
Cynna realized she was feeling less exhausted. Almost alert. "You think there's some drug in these journey-cakes? Or maybe some kind of recuperative magic?"
"They sure taste nasty enough to be good for you." Steve had finished eating. He pulled out the deck of cards Cynna had long since ceded to him, and began shuffling.
Gan looked over from where she was scooping up horse shit and glared. Cynna hid her smile. "Better not start the poker game until Gan can join us. Should be soon. They're moving into their worship circle." Every night the Ahk sat in a circle and chanted. Cynna had listened in, of course, but the charm didn't translate most of the words. Still, it was obviously a religious ritual.
"Okay if I join you for a few hands tonight?" Daniel asked.
Cynna looked at her father. She was getting used to thinking of him that way—my father. He had some color in his face for once, maybe the result of the journeycakes. "Sure. But, um, if you're feeling up to it, I have some questions."
He studied his hands for a moment, then sighed. "I don't have many answers, but you're welcome to what I do know."
"What do you know about the Ahk religion? Chulak wants to remake Edge in his god's image or something. That's why he wants the medallion. I figure. I ought to know more about this deity of his."
Daniel glanced over at the Ahk. He spoke softly. "They aren't interested in converts, but from what I can tell, Hrvash of the Ninety Names—that's what they're chanting now, his names—is a lot like the Ahk themselves. Hard, even brutal, but strictly honorable within the framework they understand. I, ah… I'd say Chulak is not a typical priest." He lowered his voice even more. "More of a fundamentalist. Extremely devout, wants his people to return to the old ways, which he considers the basis of all honor."
