* * *
Ilythra knocked on the loose wooden frame of Cappi’s door. The sun peeked over the eastern horizon, tinting the sky shades of pink. She breathed deeply. It was going to be another warm day. A gruff voice made an unintelligible noise she took to mean “come in” and she lifted the heavy cloth covering the door to enter the building.
Cappi sat on a low wooden bench, eating a bowl of boiled oats. He looked up. “Heard about the warrior. He gonna make it?”
Ilythra nodded. She’d been up with him most of the night. Vann would live. “I told the resistance leader he could send other wounded warriors this way.”
“Ryliann?”
Ilythra shook her head. “His boss. Arien.”
Cappi’s eyes narrowed. “Didn’t know a prince had a boss. He one of the Dawn Children?”
“Yes.”
“Shame.” He took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Woulda liked to meet him.”
“You might still get that chance.”
Cappi continued eating his oats. Ilythra waited for a while. Did the old man know what that meant?
“Good thing you’re training those women to fight. We might draw some attention. Surprised we haven’t already.”
So was she. Ilythra sat on a pile of blankets. It had been surprisingly uneventful. No raiders, thieves or anything. The only problems were internal. And there were enough of those to keep her busy. “We were going to draw attention eventually anyway.”
“True. But sooner now rather than later.”
“Do you object?” She probably should have asked Cappi before she’d offered Arien the use of the healing tents here. He was the unofficial ruler of the refugee camp.
Cappi stared into the distance. “Can’t say that I object. We ran to avoid war. But bloodshed has a way of catching up to you. Some of us hoped the Siobani would protect us. Guess in a way by sending you, they did. Knew it would come to this eventually.”
Ilythra took a deep breath. “Well, let’s try to keep this between you and me for now. At least until the first wounded start trickling in. It’s also fair to tell you the enemy has a special interest in me. If he found out I was here, things could get bad.”
Cappi observed her for a moment. “Might have been nice knowin’ that goin’ in. But I guess you’ve done more good than bad. I won’t say nothin’.” He waved his spoon in the air to emphasize his point.
A sound outside the building caught her attention. Ilythra tensed but motioned with her hand to indicate that Cappi continue his narrative. The old man’s brows drew together but he continued speaking about camp gossip. Ilythra slowly moved toward the doorway. She’d heard a rustling and then footsteps outside. Standing motionless near the blanketed doorway, she closed her eyes to listen, then stretched out, stepping into Teann. Hostility trickled nearby but nothing that would have normally alarmed her. She spun out into the camp. The sun was well above the horizon, and the camp had begun to stir. Several women stood near the cooking pot and turned to look at her as she emerged from Cappi’s home. Martina raised one dark eyebrow, her look challenging. But that wasn’t unusual.
Ilythra grit her teeth together and examined the ground. There had been too many people coming and going to determine if someone had been listening outside Cappi’s door.
But she knew someone had. The only questions that remained were why and who.
* * *
Ilythra lifted the flap of the healing tent and stretched. The camp was quiet. Stars peppered the black sky as far as she could see. The air had cooled until she was grateful for the thick leather tunic. Slipping between the darkened structures, she headed toward to the river.
Vann would live, but she wondered how many other men wouldn’t. Her fingers itched for a blade. She wanted to be fighting, not playing nursemaid. Frustration fueled her step. She walked along the banks, watching the water’s movement. Toads croaked their night song in deep voices, joined by the occasional chirp of crickets. The moon rose over the plains, dark yellow and bloated. It climbed slowly as if its girth was too heavy to bear.
Night closed around her, quiet, peaceful. Ilythra shook her head. Peace was an illusion. She gazed beyond the grasses, imagining men battling for their homes, their families, their lives. Her thoughts traveled to Bredych. She’d placed the protections Ewen had taught her against Crioch’s keeper. He couldn’t contact her by dream casting. It was too dangerous, but not knowing what he was doing or thinking frustrated her.
Images of the battle of Greton where she’d fought Bredych came to mind. Jagged rocks thrusting from the ground to impale men. Wolves attacking. There were beasts of prey on the Tir Rhos too. Coyotes, foxes. How would they defend against them? Ryliann needed her. He didn’t know it yet, but he did. Only she could defeat Bredych. She ground her teeth together. Although he wanted Anatar, she knew he also wanted to destroy her as much as she wanted to destroy him. It was personal.
The shadows no longer seemed soft or friendly. The melancholy song of the river had ceased to be soothing. She returned to the tent. She would send a message to Ewen. He needed to send someone else to the camp. She would join the fight.
* * *
Bredych closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He sunk into Teann, letting it embrace him, surround him. The winds recoiled, becoming choppy, irregular. He exerted his will. Even here he would be obeyed. Red light pulsed through his fingers and illuminated the darkness behind his eyes. He searched for Ilydearta’s song. Close. Yes, the reports had been right. She was not so hidden. Not so protected as he’d been led to believe. He left the melody to touch the gentle rhythm of Ealois. Ealois and Ilydearta were not together. Ealois was still behind a protected shield. A shield that was even now weakening. Bredych gripped Crioch tighter as it warmed in his hand.
Did she sense him yet? He reached out, whispering her name. She would hear him. The healer he’d captured and murdered hadn’t drawn her out. He would admit to a miscalculation, but now he knew better where her loyalties lie. He needed the stone; he wanted to see Ilythra beg. And she would. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes. It was time to move. If she would not come to him willingly, he knew how to give her no choice.
* * *
Ilythra kneeled next to Vann. The stitches were uneven and rough, but the wound was healing. She pressed the skin around the stitches gently. Warm and dry. He’d woken a few times to take some broth and water but still slept most of the day. A mercy. He had to be in a lot of pain.
More refugees poured into camp every day. She’d set up a council to oversee small disputes, with Cappi at the head. She’d trained more women than she could count. Some of them were like Martina, complaining that fighting was for men. They refused to cooperate, especially with the influx of men in the camp. But other women thrived, taking to weapons easily. Ilythra ran her hand over her face. Martina was disappearing from camp for hours at a time. Miri thought she’d taken a lover, which was a possibility. But what if it meant something else? She stifled a yawn. She would have to investigate soon. Soon, but not tonight.
It had been a week since she’d slept more than a few hours. Leaning over, Ilythra examined the unconscious man. Dark lashes rested on pale skin above high cheekbones. He was classically handsome with full lips and a strong jaw. She checked his pulse to find it steady.
The muffled sounds outside the healing tent faded as the sun dipped below the horizon. She lit a candle and moved to the other two men in the tent. One had a broken leg and bruising. He’d fought off an attack of bandits while he was bringing his family to the camp. The other had lost his foot to an infected wound. She checked the sleeping man’s bandages for any sign of further infection. The tent flap opened and closed behind her.
“The bowl is next to the door.” She assumed Miri had come to collect Vann’s dishes. When there was no answer, she turned.
Ryliann stood just inside
the tent, staring at her.
Ilythra’s breath caught in her throat. “Ryliann?” She spoke the word before her mind registered the fact.
He remained immobile, staring at her, motionless. “I came to see how Vann is doing.”
Of course he had. She stood, trying to shake off a strange disappointment. Had she really thought the prince had come to see her? “He’s sleeping. But his wound is healing,” she whispered.
Ryliann moved across the tent to crouch by Vann’s side. Ilythra studied the prince opposite her. New lines crossed his bronzed skin. He seemed somehow larger, his presence filling the tent. He glanced up. His green-rimmed eyes drew her attention. They had aged a lifetime since she’d last looked into them.
Suddenly aware of how small the tent was, Ilythra glanced down at Vann.
“He will live then.”
“Yes.” She looked up, finding Ryliann’s gaze on her again. “Though I don’t know if he’ll retain use of his arm. It was a serious wound. He was unconscious for a long time. He’s only now awake enough to feed himself.”
Ryliann nodded, his focus resting on Vann’s face. “He stood between me and the blade that did this to him. It could be me on the pallet.”
Ilythra fought the urge to lay a hand on the prince’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. But Ryliann...”
The prince brought eyes brimming with sorrow to meet Ilythra’s gaze. “I know. Arien already gave me the speech. We are at war. Losses are to be expected. If the sword was meant for me, it would have found me.”
Ilythra smiled. “That is something Arien would say.”
“Vann is my friend.” His green eyes clouded with exhaustion.
The silence stretched, and Ilythra found she was content just to be with Ryliann. The prince swayed slightly. He was tired.
She broke the stillness. “You rode hard? Alone?”
He nodded. “Yes, and I was challenged by two sentries. Good job. My horse is in the corral with Melior.” He glanced back down at Vann. “I didn’t know you were here. Arien just told me. I would have come sooner.”
“Maybe that’s why he didn’t tell you. You have an important task before you.” She took a deep breath. “I’m not staying. I’m joining the fight as soon as Ewen sends a replacement. I can feel Bredych stirring. Something is happening.” Their gazes locked again. “You will need me.”
Ryliann opened his mouth and closed it. “You are more valuable to me alive.”
“And I intend to stay that way.”
He took a deep breath and smiled. “I can always count on you to oppose me.”
She rubbed her neck under her braid. “I’m not trying to be difficult.”
He held up a hand. “I’m not implying you are.” He stared at the tent wall for several heartbeats. “You are a stone keeper. You trained more than half my men. I don’t doubt your ability.” He took another breath, his mouth working as though there were more he wanted to say. “My men are camped about half a day to the northeast. I’m waiting for word from Ewen. This camp has grown. Do you mind if I recruit? We need every man we can get.”
“The women may curse you, but I will be thankful. There are too many people to feed. I’ve trained a few of the men and all the willing women.”
He tilted his head. “Were many willing?”
She smiled and shook her head. “Some took a little persuasion.”
“If it’s okay with you, I will stay the night here and leave after speaking to the camp in the morning.”
“It’s not my camp, but you’re welcome. You’re just another refugee tonight.”
Ryliann smiled. “Then will you tend to me or must I be wounded?” His green eyes sparkled.
Ilythra’s heart missed a beat. She blinked and fought back a smile. He was flirting with her. “Take care, my prince. Your greatest chance of taking a wound is from me.”
Ryliann inclined his head. “My prince? We are making progress.”
Warmth infused Ilythra’s chest. After so long, it was good to feel alive again. “You can sleep here. Are you hungry? I can bring you some food.”
Ryliann shook his head. “No. Just exhausted. Though I’ve learned not to refuse food. I’ll eat in the morning. Thank you.”
She smiled and turned.
“Oh, Ilythra.”
She faced the prince again.
“It is really good to see you.” His green eyes gleamed.
Ilythra nodded and stepped into the night. She decided not to analyze that her steps were lighter and her heart had warmed. She only knew she’d never felt like this before. For just this moment, she’d simply enjoy the feeling and not worry about what it meant.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ewen turned to the scout after consulting his map. It was an act of habit; he’d memorized the terrain long ago. “How many?”
“Five thousand, with siege weapons,” the Dawn Child said.
Ewen nodded. The Rugians had beaten him to Alerra by a half moon or so. “And the pass?”
“Heavily guarded. The numbers were difficult to ascertain. The terrain offers too many places to hide. Even humans can remain concealed.”
Ewen tapped his fingers together. Alerra was under siege by a mixture of Rugian and Anatarian forces. He could bypass them to the north, but he wanted those Alerran warriors and he preferred not to have the Rugians at his back. If they could not walk in the front door... His gaze focused on the map. Alerra was built on the top of a mountain. It had several cisterns for collecting water, and if the humans had taken care of it like they should have, plenty of room for stores. He shook his head. The Rugians would have been in for a long siege had he not arrived. Fortunately, he would relieve them of that burden. His father had lived in the old fortress when he was a boy and had once taken Ewen to visit the Elderborn fortress. He closed his eyes and touched Ealois, bringing the memories into focus. Yes, there was an old mine. Rikari.
“Bantha, select a hundred of your best archers. I want them to go south, behind the enemy. Leave now, locate every human you can who will fight with us but don’t attack the Rugians. Wait until you hear my signal. I’ll take a thousand men through the Rikari mine tonight. It exits near the falls.” Ewen turned to Sheenan. “Tomorrow at sunrise, you and Tynan will lead the warriors through the pass, but it will be a diversion only. The Rugians may very well leave the fortress to attack you. If that happens, then we will surround them and attack from every side.”
“And if they do not?”
“They will, but if they do not, we will attack them first. Either way, they’re surrounded. Hopefully, the Alerrans will recognize an ally when they see one and join us.” Ewen examined his warriors. Their expressions held no questions. “From there we’ll march onto the Tir Rhos, where we will join with Ryliann’s army.”
“How do the humans fare?” Tynan asked.
Ewen gazed beyond the army of Dawn Children. “We must move with alacrity.”
* * *
Ryliann stood still. He’d come out to the river shortly before daybreak to wash and had stayed in an attempt to let the morning calm infuse his soul. It hadn’t worked. Footsteps approached. He stepped away from the river bank. The plains stretched out in every direction, golden and swaying in the breeze as though the earth was alive. The grasses were tall, mostly hiding him, but also any enemy that might be lurking nearby. He reached for his sword as the footsteps neared. He smiled. If not for his training under the Dawn Children, he wouldn’t have noticed the slight vibration of the earth.
Ilythra neared the river. He breathed a sigh of relief and opened his mouth to announce his presence, then stopped. She seemed so small, standing next to the diminished river. As though the force that she was had been set aside to reveal the softness he’d always instinctively known was there.
She removed her legging
s and laid them on a rock, revealing long legs beneath the tunic. She slipped the tunic over her head and placed it with her leggings. He swallowed. The water rippled as she waded into its depth. Standing, she unraveled her long braid. Dark, silken waves fell down her back almost to her hips. His fingers itched to touch the soft strands.
In a fluid motion, she disappeared beneath the water’s surface to reemerge farther upstream. The morning sun stroked her skin, lending it a glow. He’d never wished he was light before but he found he wanted to follow the light’s path with his hands.
She was so damn beautiful and so equally unattainable. Frustration rolled through his body. She was as maddening as she was fascinating. He had come to see Vann, but he wouldn’t have been able to stay away now that he knew she was so close.
He swallowed again. If she knew he was watching her, she’d kill him. He smiled. And she could. The great prince Ryliann, leader of the resistance, brought low by a slender Anatarian female. But that wasn’t accurate. Ilythra was a stone keeper and as able a warrior as any of his men.
Slowly she made her way back to the shore. Water dripped from her face, and damp hair floated in the water behind her like a silken train. Her body gleamed in the light. Ryliann’s blood pounded through his veins. Never had he wanted a woman the way he did this one.
Ilythra paused for just a moment. If he hadn’t been watching her so intently, he might have missed it. With a sigh she made her way to the rock. She pulled a piece of cloth from her pack and dried her legs. There was nothing overtly sexual about her movements, but his stomach hollowed and his cock throbbed with need. She set the towel around her shoulders, hiding her breasts from view. After pulling on her leggings, she slipped the tunic over her head and began to dry her long hair.
“Ryliann,” she said. There was no emotion in her voice.
He stepped forward. Shame washed over him. “I wasn’t aware you’d be here.”
“I come early to be alone.”
Journey of the Wanderer Page 25
