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Valdemar Books Page 565

by Lackey, Mercedes


  She suspected Need had a hand in both those conditions, though she had no idea what it was doing, or why. But she was getting used to that.

  She didn't like it, but she was getting used to it.

  And it was doubtless the fact that Need was attuned to women's problems that was the reason for the priestesses detecting her, and not the priests.

  That maddeningly logical part of her kept right on reasoning as she tried to enjoy the moment with his arm around her. We've had three narrow escapes, it said, scoldingly. Each one got narrower than the one before it. There's no doubt about it: Need is bringing in the priestesses. We're never going to make it across the Border together.

  He'd given his word to send her his ransom, and she had every reason to believe his word was good. She had no logical reason why she should stay with him. In fact, if she wanted to ensure his survival, she should leave him. With the target traveling westward, this little section of the Border should be empty long enough for him to get across.

  She inched back into the cave, grating along the sandstone, with a hollow feeling in the bottom of her stomach. She'd known all along she was going to have to face this moment, but that didn't make it any easier now that it was here.

  She stood up and dusted herself off once inside. It would be stolen rations tonight, Karsite rations. One of those narrow escapes had been just this morning, and had ended in the death of the scout who'd discovered them making their way across the ridge. His body was in a tiny hollow just below the trail, stuffed into a cavelet barely big enough to conceal him. His horse had been run off in a state of sheer animal panic, thanks to Eldan. His rations now resided in their saddlebags. Eldan had been a little squeamish about robbing the dead, but she'd just taken everything useful without a comment, and after a moment, he'd done the same.

  Eldan joined her back in the tiny cave. There was just barely enough room for them and the horses, though she could never bring herself to think of Ratha as a "horse." She never looked at him without a feeling of surprise that there was a "horse" standing there, and not another human.

  Eldan handed her a strip of dried meat. She accepted it, and pulled her water skin out of the pile of her belongings.

  "So," he said, around a mouthful of the tough, tasteless stuff, "It looks like tomorrow isn't going to be a good day to try a crossing."

  She swallowed her own mouthful. It had the consistency of old shoes, and was about as appetizing. She found herself longing for the Skybolts' trail-rations, something she'd never have anticipated doing. At least those had been edible.

  "We probably ought to hole up here for a while," she offered, feeling her heart sink and tears threaten at the lie. "Probably they'll give up when they don't find anything, and leave this area clear for us to make a try."

  Eldan nodded. "That sounds right. And we've got supplies enough. All we need is water, and one of us can go down after it about midnight."

  "I'll do that tonight," she replied. "I'm better at night-moves than you are."

  He smiled in the way that made her blood heat. "I'll agree to that," he said huskily. "And we've got all day to wait. What do you say to doing something to make the time pass a little faster?"

  "Yes," she said simply, and reached for him even as he reached for her, desperation making her want him all the more. For this would be the last time, the very last time....

  She shielded her thoughts and exercised every wile she had to exhaust him, both out of a desire for him that made her ache all over, and out of the need to make him sleep so deeply that little would wake him—and certainly not her departure.

  Then she dozed in his arms, wanting to weep, and far too tired to do so.

  Finally the sun set, and she woke out of a restless half-sleep full of uneasy dreams, fragments of things that made no sense.

  She extracted herself from his embrace without making him stir, packed up her things, and waited while the sky darkened and the rising moon illuminated the meadow below. Tears kept blurring her vision as they trickled unheeded down her cheeks. She wasn't even going to get to say "good-bye."

  She'd left a note for him, on top of the remaining rations, advising him to stay where he was for as long as they held out, then make his crossing attempt. She told him that she loved him more than she could ever tell him—and dearest gods, those words had been hard to write—and she told him that she could not go with him. "We're too different," she'd said. "And we're too smart not to know that. So—I took the coward's way out of this. I admit it; I'm running away. Besides, I hate saying good-bye. And don't you forget you owe me; I have to replace my gear somehow!"

  She didn't look back at him, where he was curled up against the back wall of the cave; that would only make it harder to leave. Instead, she saddled Hellsbane and strapped on the packs, then led her toward the mouth of the cave, knowing that the familiar sound of hooves on rock would never wake him.

  But Ratha was suddenly there, between her and the entrance, blocking her way.

  Before she could react to that, a strange voice echoed in the back of her mind. :Where are you going?: it said sternly, :And why are you leaving in stealth?:

  She gulped, too startled by this sudden manifestation of Ratha's powers to do anything more than stare. But the Companion did not move, and finally she was forced to answer him.

  Mindspeech was not what she would have chosen if she'd been offered a choice, but if she spoke aloud, she might wake Eldan, and then she'd never be able to leave him.... So although it made her stomach roil to answer the Companion that way, she ordered her thoughts and "spoke" as clearly as Warrl had taught her.

  :I have to go,: she told Ratha. :I'm putting Eldan in danger while I'm with him.:

  :He was in danger when you found him,: the Companion pointed out with remorseless logic. :What difference does your leaving make?:

  She took a deep breath, and rubbed her arms to get rid of the chill this conversation was giving her. :It's the sword,: she said finally. :It's magic, and I'm fairly sure that's what has brought the hunt down on us. More than that, it is magic that only works for a woman, which may be why the priestesses are involved. And it's very powerful, I really don't know how powerful.:

  The Companion's blue eyes held her without a struggle. :So,: Ratha said finally. :Your sword must be attracting these women. I agree that may be why no priests have hit on the trail. Why not abandon it?:

  :And leave it for them to find?: she flared. :Do you want something like that in the hands of your enemies? It may not let me go, but if it does, be sure it will have a new bearer before the sun dawns. My bet would be on a priestess finding it, which might be good for your land or bad. I don't think any of us dare take a chance on which it would be.:

  :True.: Ratha seemed to look on her with a little more favor. :And by taking this sword of yours away, the hunters all follow you, and you leave the Border here open to our crossing. You sacrifice your safety for ours, becoming a target leading away from us.:

  :I think so,: she said with a sigh. :I hope so. I'm going to double back to Menmellith, which would have been our logical move if we'd been blocked here. That should make sense to them, and since they've been following the sword and not an actual trail, they'll follow me and ignore you.:

  The Companion nodded. :You are very wise—and braver than I thought. Thank you.:

  He moved out of the way, and she led Hellsbane past him, onto the narrow ledge and the path that led up to it, still refusing to look back.

  :Good luck,: she heard behind her as she emerged into the moon-flooded night. :May the gods of your choice work on your behalf, Kerowyn. You are deserving of such favor. And may we all one day meet again.:

  That started the tears going again; she blinked her eyes clear enough to see the path, but no more. She had to move slowly, because she was feeling her way, and she was profoundly grateful that Hellsbane was surefooted and could see the path. She couldn't stop crying until she'd reached the ridge above the cave. There, she took several deep brea
ths, and forced herself to stare up at the stars until she got herself under control.

  It's over, and I've finished it myself. Ratha and his own sense of duty will keep him from following. It never had a chance of working between us anyway, and at least I've ended it while we were still in love.

  She closed her eyes, and rubbed them with the back of her hand, until the last trace of tears and grit was gone. Then she set Hellsbane's nose westward, and descended the ridge, heading for Menmellith. Soon the hunters would be following, and she needed a head start.

  I've done brighter things in my life than this, she thought, cowering in the shadow of a huge boulder and wishing that she wasn't quite so exposed on the top of this ridge. But this was the only place she had been able to find that had any cover at all, and she had to see down her backtrail. Without Eldan, and his ability to look through the eyes of the animals about him, she was finding herself more than a bit handicapped.

  The hunters had found her in the middle of the night, as she crossed from the heavy oak-and-pine forests into pine-and-scrub. She'd felt those unseen "eyes" on her just about at midnight, and this time they hadn't gone away until she had crossed and recrossed a stream, hoping the old saw about "magic can't cross running water" was true. By the time dawn bloomed behind her, the human hunters were hot on her trail, and not that far away, either. The best she could figure was that the "whatever-it-was" had alerted its masters, and they, in turn, had alerted the searchers directly in her path.

  Dawn saw her doggedly guiding the mare over low mountains (or very tall hills) that were more dangerous than the territory she'd left behind, because the shalelike rock they were made of was brittle and prone to crumbling without warning. She didn't dare stop when she actually saw a search party top a ridge several hills behind her, and caught the flash of scarlet that signaled the presence of the red-robe among them. So there was to be no rest for her today; instead, she set Hellsbane at a grueling pace across some of the grimmest country she'd ever seen. This area was worse than the near-virgin forest, because she kept coming on evidence that people had lived here at one time. Secondary growth was always harder to force a path through than an old forest; tangly things seemed to thrive on areas that had been cleared for croplands, or where people had lived. This growth was all second- and third-stage; pine trees and heavy bushes, thorny vines and scrubby grass. All things that seemed to seize Hellsbane's legs and snag in Kero's clothing.

  She had left Hellsbane drinking and got up on another ridge to look back about noon, and as she peered around her boulder, she saw the trackers still behind her, spotting them as they rode briefly in the open before taking to cover. This time they weren't several ridges away; they were only one.

  She swore pungently, every heartache and regret she'd been nursing since leaving Eldan forgotten. She had something more important to worry about than heartbreak. Survival.

  Hellfires. They're good. Better than I thought. And they were gaining on her with every moment she dallied.

  She slid down the back of the ridge and slung herself up on the mare's back, sending her out under the cover of more pine trees. And the only thing she could be grateful for was that the day was overcast and Hellsbane was spared the heat of the sun.

  They're going to catch up, she thought grimly. They know this area, and I don't; that's what let them get so close in the first place. I'm in trouble. And I don't know if I'm going to get out of it this time.

  She wanted to "look" back at her pursuers, tempted to use her Gift for the first time in a long time—

  And stopped herself just in time.

  That isn't me, she realized, urging Hellsbane into greater speed as they scrambled down a gravel-covered slope. Something out there wants me to use my Gift, probably so they can find me. Or catch and hold me until they come.

  She fought down panic; Hellsbane was a good creature, and bright beyond any ordinary horse, but if she panicked, so would Hellsbane, and the warsteed might bolt. If Hellsbane took it into her head to flee, Kero wasn't sure she'd be able to stop her until she'd run her panic out.

  And that could end in her broken neck, or the mare's, or both.

  Kero kept Hellsbane in the cover of the trees, even though this meant more effort than riding in the open. She looked automatically behind her as they topped the next hill, and saw not one, but two parties of pursuers; both coming down off the slope she'd just left, and both parties so confident of catching her now that they weren't even trying to hide. They couldn't see her, but they could see her trail; she wasn't wasting any time trying to hide it.

  They were perhaps a candlemark's ride from her, if she stopped right now. The temptation to leave cover and make a run for it was very great. If she let Hellsbane run, she might be able to lose them as darkness fell.

  Assuming that their horses weren't fresh.

  Hellsbane had been going since last night, and she couldn't do much of a run at this point.

  They could. And would.

  Kero sent the mare across a section of open trail when they dropped out of sight, hoping to get across it before they got back into viewing range. This was one of the worst pieces of trail she'd hit yet; barely wide enough for a horse, bisecting a steep slope, with a precipitous drop down onto rocks on one side and an equally precipitous shale cliff on the other.

  No place to go if you slipped, and nowhere to hide if you were being followed.

  She breathed a sigh of relief as they got into heavier cover before the hunters came into view. She hadn't wanted to rush the mare, but her back had felt awfully naked out there.

  Thunder growled overhead; Kero looked up, pulling Hellsbane up for a moment under the cover of a grove of scrub trees just tall enough to hide them. She hadn't been paying any attention to the weather, but obviously a storm had been gathering while she fled westward, because the sky was black in the west, and the darkness was moving in very fast—

  How fast, she didn't quite realize, until lightning hit the top of a pine just ahead of her, startling Hellsbane into shying and bucking, and half-blinding her rider. The thunder that came with it did deafen her rider.

  And the downpour that followed in the next breath damned near drowned her rider.

  It was like standing under a waterfall; she couldn't see more than a few feet in front of her. She dismounted and automatically peered through the curtain of rain back down the trail behind her—

  Just in time to see it disappear, melting beneath the pounding rain. She stared in complete disbelief as the trail literally vanished, leaving her pursuers no clue as to where she had gone, or where she was going.

  In fact, the part of the trail she and the mare were standing on was showing signs of possible disintegration....

  Taking the hint, she took Hellsbane's reins in hand and began leading her through the torrent of water. Streams poured down the side of the hill and crossed the trail; the water was ankle-deep, and carried sizable rocks in its churning currents. She found that out the hard way, as one of them hit her ankle with a crack that she felt, rather than heard.

  She went down on one knee, eyes filling with tears at the pain—but this was not the time or the place to stop, no matter how much it hurt. She forced herself to go on, while icy water poured from the sky and she grew so numb and chilled that she couldn't even shiver.

  And grateful for the rescue; too grateful even to curse that errant rock. This—thing—came up so fast— she thought, peering at the little she could see of the footing ahead of her, leading Hellsbane step by painful step. It—could almost be—supernatural.

  In fact, a suspicion lurked in the back of her mind perhaps Need had had something to do with it. There was no way of telling, and it could all be just sheer coincidence.

  Still, there was no doubt that it had saved her.

  Always provided she could find some shelter before it washed her away.

  And wouldn't that be ironic, she found herself thinking wryly. Saved from the Karsites only to drown in the storm! Whoev
er says the gods don't have a sense of humor....

  Fifteen

  I'm glad Hellsbane can see, because I can't. Kerowyn's eyelids were practically glued shut with fatigue. She rode into the Skybolts' camp in a fog of weariness so deep that she could hardly do more than stick to Hellsbane's saddle. The mare wasn't in much better case; she shambled, rather than walked, with her head and tail down, and Kero could feel ribs under her knee instead of the firm flesh that should be there.

  She rode in with the rain, rain that had followed her all the way from beyond the Karsite Border. Or maybe she had been chasing a storm the entire time; she wasn't sure. All she did know was that the rain had saved her, and continued to save her as she traveled—washing out her tracks as soon as she made them, for one thing. It also seemed as if it was keeping those supernatural spies of the Karsites from taking to the air, for another; at any rate she hadn't felt those "eyes" on her from the moment the rain started to come down. And last of all, the mud and rain had completely exhausted her pursuers' horses, who had none of Hellsbane's stamina.

  From the exact instant when the first storm hit, she'd been able to make her soggy way across Karse virtually unhindered. She hadn't been comfortable, in fact, she spent most of the time wet to the skin and numb with cold, but she hadn't had to worry about becoming a guest in a Karsite prison.

  Her only real regret: she'd had to ride Hellsbane after the first storm slackened; that rock hadn't broken her ankle, but it had done some damage. A bone-bruise, she thought. She wasn't precisely a Healer, but that was what it felt like. She'd hated putting that much extra strain on the mare, but there was no help for it.

  Luck or the sword or some benign godlet had brought her across the border at one of the rare Menmellith borderposts. She'd introduced herself and showed her Mercenary Guild tag, and her Skybolt badge; she'd hoped for a warm meal and a dry place to sleep, but found cold comfort among the army regulars.

 

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