As she turned her head, the darkness swam.
“Don’t try to move. You’ve been badly injured.” The blurry shape moved and a smile crept into his voice. “That sound is your cook snoring in the next room.”
She might have smiled if it wouldn’t have taken so much effort. Pain pulsed behind her eyeballs. “Injured?” Her voice sounded far away.
“Sleep, Selia.” A cool hand gently brushed her eyes and blackness returned.
Jaden moved through the trees, his eyes scanning the forest ahead. Selia, whom he left fast asleep on the bed, would recover. Now he had to find out where those barbarians had taken Oren. Following a group of humans through any terrain was usually easy, even if they tried to hide their trail. These men weren’t, and their tracks converged onto the North road.
Hours later, Jaden slowed. The soldiers rode toward Eagle Rock. It made sense. He’d heard rumors that the commander of the human army had set up base at the old fortress, thinking that it was a good place to hold the Svistra off and drive them further north.
Scenting the wind, he shook his head. The humans were stupid. The Svistra had walked their old territory for many months now. They’d already found or created dens and retreats the human soldiers would never find.
Jaden ducked under a branch to avoid releasing the pearls of water clinging to its surface, anger following a feeling of helplessness. He hadn’t seen the soldiers attack Selia, but he’d been in the forest waiting for her when he smelled her among the group of humans moving toward the tavern.
The scent of fresh blood, Selia’s blood, had assailed his senses as he followed the villagers’ procession back to the tavern. Not until the night the cook fell asleep in the chair next to Selia’s bed had he risked sneaking in the window to examine her. The room smelled strongly of Oren. It had surprised Jaden that the man had not come looking for him until he overheard the humans talking about the events in the village. Stay with Selia, or go after Oren? The quandary had filled him with a surprising anger.
Ultimately, the severity of Selia’s injuries decided for him. The initial wound wasn’t severe, but after she fell, one of the horses almost crushed her skull. He searched the forest looking for herbs and roots and then waited until Selia’s caretakers slept so he could administer them. He couldn’t fault their caring for the barkeep, but their methods were nothing short of primitive.
Satisfied he knew Oren’s destination, Jaden turned back toward the tavern. Selia wouldn’t take Oren’s kidnapping lying down. As soon as she was strong enough, she’d go after him, and he would be there when she tried.
She was one of the most remarkable humans he’d ever met, they both were, and he’d been lucky to meet a few. Of course, he wasn’t sure the humans he had befriended would count themselves lucky. With the exception of Selia and Oren, they were all dead.
“Why didn’t you fight back against the thieves?”
Selia had asked him that question several days before as she turned to leave the barn, the book of poems he’d finished reading pressed against her chest. He hadn’t been able to answer her; or rather, he’d mumbled something that was neither a truth nor a lie.
A band of Svistra had found him only a day’s walk north of Selia’s tavern. Though his father was angry, based on the beating, he had no doubt the warriors were hand-selected by his brother. When he’d escaped, Jaden blindly ran south, toward the tavern, and stumbled into a band of thieves.
He still could have defeated them. Though he hated killing, he accepted it was part of life. Had he finally given up? He’d broken ties with his family, with his people and a human community would never accept him. Jaden was alone, and the thought had weighed on his mind, slowly crushing his heart along with a sense of impotency. He could do nothing to stop the coming slaughter.
Jaden stepped deftly over a patch of muddy ground. Dwelling on the past was an occupation for the old. He’d get back to the tavern and let Selia know he’d return Oren. With that thought came a sense of purpose. He’d met truly generous humans, and reuniting them was certainly something he could do, something to live for.
“Foolish to try, but you’ve got to admire her courage.”
“Courage like that’ll kill a man, or woman.” A clicking sound punctuated the words.
Selia opened her eyes then closed them as the light pierced her brain.
“We may all need courage like that ’fore this is all over.”
Abel. So the woman’s voice must be Dara, but why? Then the memories swirled and her eyes flew open again. Oren. She was in his room.
“Where’s Oren?”
The clicking stopped.
“Did Oren get away?” she pressed.
Abel’s face filled her vision. “No. He didn’t.”
“Don’t tell her that!” Dara hissed.
“She’s a right to know, woman. They took Oren and half the town,” Abel continued. “I only escaped because of my bum leg.”
“How long?”
Abel glanced to the ceiling. “Reckon it’s been four or five days now.”
Oren wouldn’t survive in an army. He wasn’t made to kill. He wouldn’t understand why. An aching need to comfort him, to explain what was happening, filled the hollow in her chest. He needed her.
Slowly she sat up. The room spun, and her stomach protested.
“Don’t do too much,” Abel warned.
“What happened?”
Abel made a low noise at the back of his throat. “I know why you did it, Selia. But it was damn stupid. I’ve known Oren since the day he was born. Nameless god rest Sonia’s soul, he’s no soldier, but there was no reasoning with those men.” He took a deep breath. “After you punched that soldier, the captain rode toward you with his sword drawn. Do you remember?”
She could remember the flash of a blade, but as though she was watching it happen to another person. “Think so.”
“Well, I thought the dark god had come to take you ‘cross the last mystery, but the captain hit you with the pommel, and you went down like a felled tree.”
“Oh.”
“That’s not the worst of it,” Dara interrupted. “As soon as you fell, he yelled to his men and they rode out of town. You must o’ been trampled by three or four horses. You’re lucky to be alive.”
“T’was only one that got ‘er.” Abel scowled at his wife.
“I’ll thank the Trickster next time I see one of his temples.” She breathed deep. Jaden. “Did…” she cleared her throat. “The barn, was there anything—”
“If’n you’re worried about Jemima, don’t be. She’s still there. She’s too old even for a packhorse. They took some tackle and all the ale, and it looked like one or two of them bunked there, but everything else is as it should be.”
So where was Jaden? He’d been in her room. She knew she hadn’t dreamed it. She reached for Abel’s hand and squeezed. “Thank you.”
Abel’s ears turned pink. “S’what neighbors are for. You know we got to stick together out here.”
The clicking sound resumed. Selia turned her head. “Thank you, Dara.”
“You’d do the same for us. I always said, neighbors need each other. Why, the other day…”
Selia closed her eyes, leaned back against the pillow and let Dara’s voice wash over her. When she opened her eyes again, it was dark. She half expected to see Jaden separate from the shadows in the corners of the room but if the Svistra was nearby, he wasn’t making his presence known. Bracing her hands against the mattress, she sat up, waited for the room to stop spinning, slid her feet to the cold floor, then slowly stood. She breathed through the dizziness until the world once again settled. Jaden had made her drink a vile liquid. Perhaps it was something to help her recover and, now that he knew she’d survive, he considered his debt paid. The thought that she would never see him again brought a brief stab of pain she quickly pushed aside. She’d liked him, but he was Svistra. Better for all of them that he go far away.
As she took a few steps, the
floor seemed to tilt slightly. Selia stopped to get her bearings and continued until she could rest her head against the door. She had to get Oren back. The wood felt deliciously cool against her cheek. She glanced toward the ceiling. Her weapons were up in her room, and she didn’t know if she could navigate the stairs.
“Only one way to find out,” she mumbled to herself.
The sound of Martha’s snoring increased as she stepped into the narrow hall. She must be sleeping in her mother’s old room. Selia smiled. Martha was the only woman she knew who wouldn’t care what it had been used for. To Martha, a bed was a bed.
Selia shuffled down the hallway and slowly turned to look at the doorframe of Oren’s room behind her. It seemed like it had taken an inordinate amount of time to traverse such short a distance. She stared up the murky stairwell that led to the second floor. The stairs stretched into infinity. She was tempted to go back to the bed, lie down and forget her foolish plan, or better yet, crumple on the floor and cry herself to sleep.
“Come on. For Oren,” she whispered. Every moment she wasted was one more Oren spent with those men.
One hand on the wall, she made her way slowly up the stairs, panting as she reached the landing at the top. She would be sick, and soon. Her vision clouded. Half blind, she stumbled to her window and emptied the contents of her stomach into the bushes below. When she was done, she turned and slid down the wall.
“Yeah, I’m going to be a real help to Oren.” Tears of frustration pricked her eyes.
I’ll leave tomorrow night. That will give me one more night and a day of rest. She regained her feet, collected her weapons and packed some necessary items into a bag. Selia paused at the picture of her mother. It suddenly felt delicate. She was afraid it would crumble in her hands. She should leave it so it would remain safe, but couldn’t bear to abandon it. Carefully, she slid it into an inner pocket of her pack.
When Selia attempted to lift the pack, it seemed heavier than its combined contents. She half carried, half dragged it to the landing in front of the stairs and looked down. They’d never before looked so steep and forbidding. She would have loved to drag the pack behind her but it would have made too much noise as it bumped down the stairs. Not even Martha could sleep through that, and then she’d have to explain. She couldn’t even put into words why she had to go. She just did. Oren needed her. She slung the pack over her shoulder where it settled on top of her sheathed sword, threw the bow over her neck and with one hand on the wall, made her way back down the narrow stairs.
By the time she’d stashed everything under the bed and crawled under the covers, her body shook. The throbbing of her head spread into her abdomen. She retched, but there was nothing left in her stomach. Her eyes closed of their own accord, and sleep took her.
Chapter Seven
The next night, the moon shone through the curtained window. After her trip up the stairs, Selia had slept the rest of the night and most of the day. She’d need every ounce of strength she could muster.
With an ear tuned to the steady rise and fall of Martha’s snoring, Selia pulled off the long white gown and began to dress.
They’d be worried, all of them, but there was no helping it. She couldn’t stay or ask anyone to go with her. The sense of urgency had only grown stronger. She had to find Oren. He would be scared, lonely and confused. He could be in danger or worse. Selia clamped down on that line of reasoning as she laced her pants then slipped on her white shirt. Like most of her clothes, the shirt was one of Oren’s old casts offs, cut and mended to fit her.
She fingered the material. I will find you.
The soldiers had taken Oren to Eagle Rock. She’d gleaned that much from conversation when Dara and Abel thought she was sleeping. King Leisle planned to begin his offensive against the Svistra from the northern fortress, drive them back into their own lands.
Eagle Rock was about six or seven days north of the crossroads. Of course she didn’t know if that estimate was walking or on horseback. It didn’t matter. Jemima couldn’t make the journey, so she’d walk. Commander Nathan would be at the fortress but parts of her memory were still fuzzy. He’d been nice enough. Perhaps he’d listen to reason and let Oren come home with her. What if he doesn’t? Selia scowled at the traitorous thought. I’ll cross that bridge when I get there. Her mother had always told her not to borrow trouble, then she’d wink before adding that there was enough just lying around.
She shrugged the leather vest over her shirt and laced it closed. Now the tricky part. With care she bent to pull on her boot and then tie the laces. The pounding in her head increased but the wave of dizziness was thankfully brief.
After writing a short note for Abel, telling him she’d be gone for a couple of weeks and entrusting him with the care of Jemima and the tavern, Selia shrugged on her pack, checked that her weapons were in place and walked into the hall. Stepping around the squeaky board, she made her way to the kitchen. She placed the note on the clean kitchen counter where Martha would be sure to find it. The cook would be beside herself with worry though. She couldn’t read and wouldn’t know what the note said until Abel arrived.
Selia pushed away the guilt as she stepped out into the dark of the pre-dawn night. She’d need to hurry past the village before the sun rose, or risk questions. The others would think she was foolish to go after Oren. They might try to stop her. She had no choice. Oren and the tavern were her life.
As she breathed the cool air, Selia couldn’t stop the vague images of Oren in battle. Of him standing, confused, while soldiers fought around him until…
She swallowed. He’d be killed trying to stop what he’d see as a slaughter.
Focus on the next step.
From the road, Selia glanced back at the tavern, and froze. Unexpected tears pricked her eyes. Save for a few days hunting in the woods, or trips into the village for supplies, she hadn’t left the tavern since the day she was born, and this felt like a goodbye. She glanced down the King’s road as it led into the west, mentally following as it meandered over mountains and valleys until it came to the great water. Then turned south, watching the moon play along the same road her mother had traveled years before. Without another look back, she walked north toward Oren.
Nathan wound his way across the courtyard and through the ragged groups of men staring ahead, appearing intent on something he couldn’t see, their eyes blank and red-rimmed. Some of them looked like they hadn’t been long from the apron string. The air reeked of despair, brokenness and unwashed bodies.
Ahead, a large man sat astride a bay stallion. When he saw Nathan approach, he straightened in the saddle.
“Commander.” He touched one finger to his forehead.
“Captain Darion, why are these men all here?”
Darion reached under his helmet and scratched his head. “By order of King Leisle, the men you requested.”
Nathan clenched his teeth. “These men are soldiers?”
“Well, more like volunteers.” Darion winked. “Had to help ’em along if’n you know what I mean. Down right disloyal if you ask me.”
Fuck! This is the king’s answer to my request? Nathan’s hand itched to punch the smile off Darion’s face. Instead, he blew out all the air in his lungs and turned to survey the motley group. He stepped over to the stone wall encircling the well and leapt to the top. He cleared his throat. “I’m Commander Nathan.”
He waited until the men turned their dull eyes in his direction.
“I’d say welcome to Eagle Rock, but it might seem a little ironic to you. In a few hours, I’ll make sure there’s a hot meal and a bed for each of you. Tomorrow at sunrise, I expect you all back here in the courtyard. Understand?”
There were vague mumbles and nodded heads. Nathan jumped down, caught Matias’s eye and walked toward the kitchen.
Nathan lowered his tone for Matias’s ears only. “The king didn’t send me soldiers, he sent me arrow fodder.”
“I’d not want any of these men fighting at my
back,” Matias agreed.
Nathan ran a hand through his hair. “Men fight to save their homes and their families, not for some noble idea of king and country. None of these men would last the first hour in a real battle.” He glanced back at the gathering. “Nursemaids. The king wants us to babysit a bunch of fucking villagers who don’t know one end of a sword from another.”
Matias nodded. “There are times when I’d question my king. Farmers, furriers…”
They stepped around a group of men huddled around the broken wheel of a cart as they might a campfire. They didn’t look up.
Matias shook his head. “Of course, we could use a wheelwright.”
Nathan froze and out of the corner of his eye, saw Matias try to follow his gaze. A large man sat on the ground, staring at nothing, his eyes glazed with confusion. “I know that man.”
Jaden stared at the empty bed. He’d known even before he entered the room that she was gone, but he’d had to see for himself. He sniffed. Her scent was a day, maybe two, old. The tavern itself had a soulless feel as though the life had left it. Perhaps it had.
Of all the foolish things to do. Her going north alone was tantamount to suicide. If a wild creature or human patrol didn’t find her, the Svistra would.
Jaden had miscalculated, a mistake that could cost Selia her life. He’d detoured to one of his caches to retrieve supplies he’d need and in doing so, he’d missed her. He cursed under his breath. He’d bet his best horse she wasn’t fully recovered. But then, he no longer had a best horse to bet, and Selia was gone and in danger. The Svistra trails he’d encountered had been old. A chance. Now he had to hunt down a single wounded, human female before anyone else did.
Chapter Eight
The door to the outer chamber opened, bringing with it the cooler air from the hall and the unmistakable scent of Noe. Eyes closed, Keldar inhaled her floral fragrance deep into his lungs. She was angry. All the better.
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