He’d been particularly eager to put an end to Dima. The general had embarrassed him, losing battle after battle with the elusive Siobani. But Dima had abandoned his post. Bredych’s army had swept up the smaller garrisons, swelling his numbers. This was the last. Soon he would draw out the Siobani and put an end to the resistance. A smile played at his mouth.
Emlyn sat opposite; a large, damp moon decorated the neckline of his tunic, echoing those under his arms. His cup was untouched. The second’s gaze darted to the two robed figures, motionless and silent in the tent’s shadow, and his face paled further.
Bredych didn’t blame him. Fear of his followers was instinctive, as was the knowledge they were not quite human anymore. Bredych’s smile widened. He broke the silence. “Now Emlyn, I know Dima was having some trouble.”
“Yes, yes, my lord.” Emlyn reached for his cup, hesitated and then returned the hand to his lap. “We spoke once before. It has only grown worse. It’s the Siobani, sir. We can’t fight them. They come and go like mist. The men fear them.”
Do you fear them? Bredych sipped his drink. “Really?”
“Yes, my lord. I—How do you fight shadows?”
“How?” Bredych smiled, enjoying the fear in the man’s eyes. “Oh, but that’s the question, isn’t it? One I expected Dima to answer.” Bredych clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “It’s a pity, really. He failed me. We will locate him and make sure he is recompensed for his action.” Did this man dream of glory, status and wealth? “Meanwhile, I suppose you can take Dima’s place?”
“Yes, my lord.” Emlyn leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with ambition before he seemed to remember himself. “I mean, I’ll try, sir.”
Oh yes, the greed was apparent. “Yes. I think you’ll do nicely. You see, we must encourage the men. We must show them that we are so strong, they’ve nothing to fear from Siobani.”
Emlyn nodded vigorously.
“Emlyn, my friend. You see, we have a problem. I trusted Dima to lead my army, and he failed me. Now, he’s gone.” He leaned forward, watching the man’s eyes darken with fear. “Yet you’re here. Ready to take his place. And take his place you shall. You asked how to fight shadows? I’ll show you.”
* * *
Ilythra stopped to wait for stragglers to catch up. She led several women into the prairie to show them where and how to dig for roots and how to find water. Many of the women, led by Martina, complained that they already had a source of water. She’d grown tired explaining that the river would dry up before the fall rains came. It happened every year without fail.
The sound of horses riding at full speed echoed across the plains. The weariness dropped from her body as her heart sped. She loosened her swords and spun toward the noise.
Dust rose into the air behind two horses. Ilythra scanned the horizon. It was only two. Both with human riders.
“He’s hurt bad.” One of the men jumped to the ground almost before the horse stopped, turned and then slid a second man off the animal.
Ilythra rushed to his side. Blood stained the second man’s tunic.
“Bring him,” she said, leading the men through camp into the healing tent. She unrolled a bed in time for the warrior to carry the wounded man in.
He laid him gently on the pallet.
“Fetch me some water from the north end of the river,” Ilythra said.
One of the men left to comply, returning minutes later with a bowl full. Ilythra finished cutting the tunic off the wounded man, absently noting the Dawn Child design. Her heart stuttered. One of Ryliann’s men. She swallowed back the fear that rose in her throat. “What’s his name?” she asked, stifling a grimace. The arm, partly severed from his shoulder, hung in a bloody mess. She bound the arm to slow the bleeding.
“Vann,” the man replied.
The name sounded familiar, but Ilythra remained focused on her task. She added some herbs to the water and began cleaning around the wound. “And yours?”
“Sani, ma’am. This is Pete.” He pointed to the silent man. “Is he going to be okay?”
Ilythra peered at him. Sani didn’t look like one of the men she’d trained, but then, neither did Pete. “Hand me that jar over there.” She nodded toward an earthenware pot.
“Milady.”
Ilythra took the vessel from him. “I don’t know. I’ll do my best. Why did you bring him here?”
“I heard there was a healer here...and I’m kinda from here.” Sani stood there a moment longer. “I can’t stay. I have to get back to my...”
“It’s fine, don’t tell me where. I’ll take care of him.” Ilythra turned to him, meeting his gaze. He was young. Very young.
Without another word, Sani left the tent.
As soon as Bredych or any of his followers thought the refugees were helping the rebels, the camp was in danger. Ilythra placed a hand along Vann’s neck. His pulse was erratic, his skin like ice. She covered him with several blankets then continued to clean his shoulder.
Miri and a few of the women ran in the tent, out of breath. “Is that one of the rebels?”
“We’re rebels,” Ilythra shot back, irritated. She took a deep breath. “Yes, Miri, but please don’t tell anyone. We don’t need the information getting out.”
“Got no one to tell,” she replied. “What can I do to help?”
“Thread a needle for me.” Ilythra glanced up and caught the girl’s eye. Miri turned, replaced the thread and instead washed her hands with the soap Ilythra kept with her healing herbs. Ilythra examined the wound and took the needle and thread from Miri.
“Will he live?”
Ilythra took a deep breath. “I don’t know. Heat some large stones and bring them. We need to keep him warm. Also, find garlic.”
Miri left to do as instructed.
Ilythra carefully sewed together the wounded skin. It struck her where she’d heard the name “Vann” before. He was Ryliann’s second. Dread washed over her body and punched her in the gut. Her hands shook. Vann wouldn’t leave Ryliann’s side. Could Ryliann be dead? Wounded? Ilythra swallowed the emotion. He couldn’t be. Her limbs weakened and a cold sweat broke across her brow.
Miri ran in with the garlic. Ilythra shook her head and took several deep breaths. Ryliann was alive. He had to be. She gripped Ilydearta with bloodstained hands and briefly closed her eyes. She would find a way to heal Vann and return him to the prince. Ryliann would want him by his side when he took back his kingdom.
* * *
The warriors scurried around the camp, packing and loading carts. Bredych nodded. All they needed was a taste of discipline. He’d move a few days east to the mouth of a valley. It was a more defensible location should the Siobani decide they were foolish enough to attack, and large enough to house his entire army.
He’d sent out raiding parties and selected a few likely men to blend in with the locals. He would find out how Ewen was getting his information and gain a step on him. He was quite certain Ryliann had something to do with it. He would know shortly.
He reached out on the winds of Teann to touch the familiar song of Ilydearta. She was using the stone. He raised an eyebrow. Had she left the protected lands? He couldn’t tell from this distance but it made sense. He couldn’t imagine her sitting the entire war out. “It’s already over, my dear. You’re late to the game.”
A smile stretched his mouth. Even more refugees were fleeing north to the plains in search of the Siobani or Prince Ryliann. The rumors of the prince who defied him had spread across the land. Anger surged through his blood. He couldn’t wait to watch the breath leave the prince’s body. He was looking forward to that almost as much as seeing Ilythra beg. Bredych took a deep breath and let it out.
His decision to leave the camp unmolested had been a good one. All the dissenters were in one place. Once he’d fin
ished with the Siobani, he’d burn them to the ground.
“Yes, a touch of discipline,” he spoke aloud, glancing to the assembled warriors. “How’s the view, my friend, Emlyn?”
The men began to array themselves. Oxen, kicking up dust, pulled wagons full of armor and food. Before them, column upon column of horsemen held anxious animals in place, waiting for Bredych’s word. He considered the warriors on foot, last in the array. The men remained motionless; not even their gazes darted from the man directly ahead of them. Farmers, townsmen, barkeeps all stood at attention, not daring to displease him. And it pleased him that they would be fodder for Siobani arrows while his real warriors razed the enemy.
Bredych reined his horse to join the head of his army. His hooded guard flanked him as he approached. Bredych smiled. He would give them a greater fear than the one they had of the Siobani.
Bredych spared one more glance toward the warriors behind him as the procession began to move. Emlyn led them, his head impaled on a pike.
* * *
Ilythra tensed but made sure not to alter the rhythm of her steps. She was no longer alone. Since the men had brought Vann in, she’d had the camp on alert. They all took turns patrolling the perimeter. Tonight was her turn. Three other refugees were hidden in the night. She took a deep breath and sensed the winds of Teann. She didn’t detect hostility.
A bird called in the night. Another call trilled through the air, and a smile stretched her mouth. “Might as well show yourself,” she whispered, trusting Elderborn hearing.
Arien rose from the grasses as fluid and strong as a viper preparing to strike.
She rushed toward him and threw her arms around his waist. Ilythra breathed in his scent and let his warmth saturate her skin. Her heart filled until it burst as a smile on her face. She pulled away. “Are you hurt?”
Arien shook his head. “No. It’s good to see you.”
“What are you doing here?” Ilythra examined her friend. “I thought you were fighting a war.”
He held her at arm’s length. His face became grim. “Ryliann needs many of us to be west of here within a week. He sent envoys to the resistance’s leaders in the west and east. We have word thousands of his troops head this way. We need to—”
“Wait a minute, Arien. Resistance in the west? I’ve had no news since leaving Siann and scant then. What resistance? How are we doing?”
Arien shrugged. “The remaining wave riders have joined with bands of Benai and a few peddlers. They’re holding off most of the Creeians. We were doing better than I imagined. We took Bredych’s forces by surprise over and over. But now they’ve gotten wise. They don’t bunch up. Each caravan is heavily guarded, and watches have been doubled. We’ve lost men. I think Bredych has taken command of his armies. I’m off to tell Ryliann—”
“Is Ryliann okay?”
Arien tilted his head. “Yes. He was well the last time I saw him. Why?”
“How long ago was that?”
“A half a moon or so.”
Ilythra took a deep breath and let it out. “His second, Vann, is here. He’s bad.”
“They brought him here?” Arien cursed. “Why?”
“The warrior, I can’t remember his name, said he’d heard there was a healer here.”
Arien cursed again.
Ilythra placed a hand on his harm. “Send your wounded. We already have healing tents. If the word is out, Bredych already knows.”
“Have you heard from your Rugians?”
Ilythra shook her head. She had an ugly feeling that she’d gambled and lost.
Arien shook his head. “Don’t despair yet. I’ve kept your location as secret as I can. They won’t know how to get in touch with you. The traders are doing what they said they would. Word is spreading throughout Anatar that there is a prince who will stand up for them, who will lead them to victory against the Rugians, Creeians and Formori.”
“The Formori are here?” Ilythra’s heart beat rapidly and her throat dried. The Formori lived in the far south, which meant they’d crossed the Faisach.
Arien placed a hand on her shoulder. “Not many. Most of them are battling a particular stubborn breed of horsemen.”
Relief washed through her body. She muttered a prayer of protection for her adopted family on the Faisach.
“The Benai have been invaluable. They are living up to the name ‘Children of the Wind.’ Your friend Mohan has banded them together. They are a formidable lot who have given Bredych no end of trouble.”
Mohan. Ilythra smiled. No end of trouble. That described her friend well. She whispered another prayer.
“Bredych burned great stretches of forest in the east,” Arien continued. “Rugians are pouring across the mountains. Many more have already joined Bredych near Edriel. Bredych is assembling his troops. I need to inform Ryliann. If we are not careful, we will be caught between the Rugians to the east and the rest of Bredych’s hordes. We need to gather and prepare. The real war is about to begin.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Ryliann paced the small cabin. Cobwebs and grime dimmed the soft moonlight, which shone through the windows and illuminated a travel-worn map lying on a wooden table. Emotions played across his face: anger, fear, desperation. Arien remained silent. He knew humans were uncomfortable with silence, but the prince needed time to face and accept the change in circumstances. Bredych’s spies had uncovered their ploy. They’d posed as townspeople eager to join the resistance. An entire company of Ryliann’s men had been ambushed while they’d slept. Only the quick thinking of the Dawn Children leaders and Ryliann had saved most of them.
“There was nothing I could do.” Ryliann spoke as though he answered a question.
“Did you think to win a war with no casualties?” Arien asked.
The prince stopped and faced him. “No.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Damn it! I should’ve seen it coming.”
The human had gone on long enough. “The Dawn Children with you didn’t see the ambush.”
“No, they didn’t. How can you stand there so cool and collected? Don’t you know what this means?”
“I do.” Arien crossed the room to the map and stared down at the ivory parchment. “However, tearing your hair out won’t change what’s happened.”
Ryliann stopped to stare out into the darkened night, though Arien imagined there were other things besides shadowy trees crossing his vision. “I’m sorry about Jora, Arien.”
An ache pierced Arien’s chest. He turned to face Ryliann. It was important the human didn’t take more blame on his shoulders than was due. He was a commander of an army in a time of war. Guilt would make him hesitate and cost more lives. “His death is a loss to us all. He was brave and loved. He knew the dangers involved and he died an honorable death.” Arien paused, thinking of Jora. His wife would be heartbroken. He turned his attention back to Ryliann. “We all knew the risk going in. What of your men? How many did you lose?”
“Roughly half.” Ryliann raked his hand through his hair again.
“The wounded?”
“Those who could, followed us. We tended to them as best we could. The healer in our group was one of the fallen.”
“Vann.” Ryliann swallowed hard. “He didn’t return.”
Arien’s breath caught in his throat. Ryliann didn’t know. He took a deep breath. “One of your men took Vann to the refugee camp in the northern Tir Rhos.”
Ryliann turned anguish-filled eyes to Arien. “Is he alive? Wait. How do you know this?” The prince’s eyes narrowed.
Guilt pricked at Arien’s conscience but he brushed it away. “Before I came here, I stopped to speak to Ilythra.”
“Ilythra is the healer in the refugee camp?” Ryliann’s voice rose. “Since when?”
Arien regarded Ryliann. The
human was very protective. Ilythra would hate it. He hated it as well. Protecting Ilythra was his job.
“What’s Ilythra doing in the Tir Rhos? Doesn’t Ewen know how dangerous it is?” Ryliann paced the small room.
Arien straightened his spine but kept the anger from his voice. Barely. “Are you questioning my father’s judgment, or Ilythra’s skill as a warrior?”
Ryliann shook his head. “Neither. It’s just...” He paused and turned to Arien. “I thought she was in the protected lands. Safe.”
“Do you even know Ilythra? The refugees are in the middle of an inhospitable land because they had nowhere else to go. They’re hungry, leaderless and dying of ignorance. Did you think my father could watch and turn his back? Do you think Ilythra could?” Arien struggled with his guilt again. The prince was not saying anything he himself hadn’t thought. Why did it sound so offensive when he heard it spoken aloud? “I didn’t reveal her location to anyone because it was the safest thing for her. The more people know where she is, the greater chance the enemy will hear of it.”
Ryliann took a few deep breaths and his color returned to normal. “So you’ve seen her? She is well?”
“Yes. She asked the same of you.”
“She did?” The prince smiled.
“Yes.” Arien contemplated Ryliann for a moment. He knew he was being unfair, but if the prince had feelings for Ilythra, he would have to accept all of her. He took a deep breath. “Ryliann, don’t ever forget Ilythra is a stone keeper. She’s been in more dangerous places and survived.”
Arien felt another twinge of conscience. He was instructing Ryliann to do something he’d never managed to accomplish. Ilythra was a warrior, a healer, his closest companion—and dearer to his heart than any other. He worried about her in the refugee camp.
“Now, my friend, there are many things to consider before we plan our next move.” He clasped Ryliann’s shoulder. “We need to decide how best to meet the hordes of Rugians at our back and Bredych’s forces before us before they are both breathing down our necks.”
Journey of the Wanderer Page 24
