Angus Wells - The Kingdoms 02 (33 page)

           
Wynett flung the brand into the
trees, sparks trailing and sputtering as they hit the snow. The burning wood
cast random shadows and before it died she saw a tawny shape slink back from
the flame, the impression brief but frightening, for it was one of glaring
yellow eyes and gnashing fangs, of raw power and ferocity.

           
“Another,” Tepshen said and she
obeyed instantly.

           
The second brand burned longer, but
showed no sign of the cat save a shadow that seemed to move, shifting back into
the timber, leaving behind a rasping growl.

           
“It is gone,” Tepshen announced
after a while, and Wynett sighed, suddenly aware that she had been very
frightened.

           
She returned to Kedryn, taking his
hand to lead him back to the fire. Tepshen Lahl eased his bowstring down and
replaced the arrow in the quiver, announcing that he would take sentry duty for
the remainder of the night. Kedryn nodded without speaking and Wynett sensed a
tension in him as they huddled in their furs and reached to take his hand
again.

           
“What is it?” she asked. “The cat is
gone.”

           
“Were it here I should be of no
use,” he answered, the bitterness she remembered from High Fort in his voice.
“Save, perhaps, as bait.”

           
“You are of great use,” she
responded gently.

           
“Blind?” he rasped.

           
“RememberLavia’s words,” she urged,
reaching across the gap between them to touch his cheek. “You are the Chosen
One—the only one able to defeat the Messenger. Were it not for you, we should
not be able to approach the Drott—you were the one forged that peace, so
already you have proven your worth.”

           
“And brought you into danger,” he
replied.

           
She smoothed his tousled hair and
smiled. “I came of my own free will, Kedryn. There was no coercion.”

           
“Save this accursed blindness.” He
turned his face so that his lips brushed her palm. “I would see you safe, Wynett.
I would
see
you! I would defend the
woman I . . .”

           
He bit off the word, but she knew
what it would have been and felt a sudden, heady flood of emotion that,
unbidden, before she even knew what she did, had placed her arms about his
shoulders, I drawing him to her so that she felt his cold cheek against hers,
his mouth against her skin.

           
“I know,” she whispered into his
hair, and almost said,
And I love you
,
but caught herself in time, the vows she had made again interposing between
them, “but we have a duty to the Kingdoms. We must remember that.”

           
“My feelings will not change,” he
said, though more calmly now.

           
“Regain your sight,” Wynett
murmured, knowing she should draw back, but unwilling to end the closeness,
feeling guilty that she could not, “and then let us talk of feelings.”

           
It was Kedryn who drew back then,
lifting his head that he might look into her eyes, the beginnings of a smile
stretching his mouth.

           
“You promise?” he asked, excitement
in his voice, making it husky.

           
Wynett gazed back, resisting the
impulse to draw his head down that she might feel his kiss, remembering the
intoxication, the confusion, she had experienced before, wanting it again, and
frightened by the wanting.

           
“Aye,” she agreed, and placed a
gentle finger on his lips before he could speak again, “I promise.”

           
Kedryn’s smile spread, his even,
white teeth glinting in the fireglow, his handsome features leached of
bitterness as he nodded and settled contentedly into his furs.

           
Dawn found them sleeping
hand-in-hand, the sight eliciting a wry smile from Tepshen Lahl as he tossed
branches onto the fire and began to carve meat from the haunch roasted the
night before. Shared hardship, shared danger, he thought, forged bonds far
stronger than those formed in easier times, and when this quest was ended the
Sister Wynett would likely find it difficult to remember her vows. He climbed
to his feet and went to examine the tracks left by the forest cat, leaving the
star-crossed lovers to wake of their own accord.

           
He found them risen on his return
and wondered what that whispered conversation had been to make Kedryn so happy.
He posed no questions, however, nor offered any comment, content to see the
young man he regarded as a son in such good spirits.

           
That mood continued as they progressed
steadily deeper into the Beltrevan, though it was marred the next night by the
return of the forest cat.

           
“The creature paces us,” he decided
as the great coughing roar echoed through the trees again. “Mayhap it is maimed
and seeks easy prey.”

           
“Will the fire not keep it off?”
asked Wynett.

           
“Hopefully,” the kyo told her.

           
“Should we—you,” Kedryn corrected
himself, “kill it?”

           
“They are not easy creatures to
kill,” Tepshen shrugged, “and that would take time we can ill afford. Perhaps
we may placate its hunger.”

           
Without further ado he took a cut of
venison from his saddlebags and a brand from the fire and strode into the
trees. He tossed the meat far into the shadows and returned to the camp,
listening to the growling of the cat as it consumed the offering.

           
The following day he surprised a
deer floundering through drifted snow and brought it down with a single
well-placed arrow, leaving the carcass for the prowling cat. That night they
were not troubled, nor was there any sign of the predator for several nights
after, though they continued to maintain a watch and rode always with ears
straining for sound of the hunter.

           
The days grew steadily shorter as
they moved into the heartland of the woods, the pines giving way to more varied
timber, massive beeches spreading cathedral branches above them, gnarled oaks
standing like wise old men, birches silvery slender. Animal life became more
abundant and their diet of venison was enhanced with hares and wild birds, and
roots and winter berries Wynett found. There was increasing forage for the
horses and their speed picked up. It seemed they had left the cat behind,
though Tepshen still left a haunch to placate the beast whenever he brought
down a deer, and they relaxed a trifle as their strength and confidence grew.

           
They were some weeks into the forest
before they sighted the first Drott.

           
They had forded a river and decided
to make camp on the far bank, building a fire to dry their boots and furs after
the kyo strung a line in the water, hoping to add fish to their diet. The sun
was poised above the trees with a little daylight still in hand, and the blaze
crackled merrily as the companions shivered, clustering close to the flames.
Their furs were hung on frameworks of branches and they had changed their undergarments,
modesty dictating that Wynett use the draped furs as a makeshift screen, all
three wrapped in the saddle blankets as they waited for the fire to work its
heat into their outer garb. Kedryn wiped carefully at his blades as Tepshen
Lahl checked his bowstrings and Wynett examined the contents of her satchel,
but despite the discomfort there was a festive mood to the halt and they called
promises to one another that in future they would find shallower crossing
places.

           
Then their badinage was interrupted
by a harsh shout and four men emerged from the surrounding trees with nocked
bows and hostile expressions.

           
They were short, burly men, their
stocky frames rendered bulkier by the furs they wore, jerkins of wolf and otter
drawn tight by swordbelts, their lower limbs encased in leather-bound leggings.
Two bore shields strung on their backs and all were heavily bearded,
bareheaded, with dark skin and narrow, darker eyes.

           
Tepshen Lahl set a hand to his
sword’s hilt, then halted the movement as two arrowheads leveled on his chest.
Kedryn was already holding Wynett’s hand and his grip tightened as he saw the
surly eyes appraise her blondness. “
Ka
emblan pasa
,” he called, dragging the phrase from his memory, “We come in
peace.”

           
“Ka
emblan pasaechoed the foremost warrior, his guttural tone mocking. “Ku emblan
estro, chaddah. Emblan dyla vistro serra wird. ”

           
The others guffawed, moving closer.

           
“He says we have come to die,”
Wynett said quickly, her voice low. “Because we are strangers with no right to
be here.”

           
Kedryn stepped back from the fire,
seeing from the comer of his eye that Tepshen was ready to attack should the
chance present itself; but doubting that even the kyo, for all his lethal
speed, could move faster than four arrows.

           
“Tell them who we are,” he urged.

           
Wynett spoke rapidly in the byavan
and her words halted the barbarians for a moment. Then the spokesman frowned
and stepped closer, still holding his bow nocked and ready to fire, more of the
harsh speech bursting from his lips as he studied Kedryn’s face.

           
“He says the hef-Alador is blind,”
Wynett translated, “and as you are not, you cannot be the hef-Alador.”

           
Kedryn let go her hand, bringing
down his personal darkness, and pointed to his eyes.
“Yi hef-Alador ”
he cried, then could summon no more of the forest
argot.

           
“He
is
the hef-Alador,” Wynett declared, drawing the saddle blanket
closer, conscious of the lustful glint in the warriors’ gaze. “He is come to
the Beltrevan to regain his sight, and I am come with him because my touch
allows him to see.”

           
“I should welcome your touch,”
leered the barbarian.

           
“I am a Sister of Kyrie,” she
responded, struggling to hold her voice firm, “and sworn to celibacy. It will
go ill with you if you harm any of us.”

           
“We will not harm you, little one,”
the man promised ominously. “You are worth too much as a slave. But these . .
.” He gestured carelessly at Kedryn and Tepshen Lahl, “they are worth nothing
so I think we shall kill them.”

           
“The Ulan of the Drott will carve
the blood eagle on you for such a crime,” Wynett warned him, calling on all the
training of Estrevan to put iron in her tone. “And your souls will wander for
all eternity in limbo.”

           
“For killing strangers who
trespass?” sneered the warrior, though an element of doubt had entered his
voice and his bowstring eased a little.

           
“For killing the hef-Alador and his
chosen companions,” Wynett snapped. “For preventing the hef-Alador from
presenting himself to your Ulan.”

           
“I see only a blind man,” came the
answer, “and there are many blind, but only one is the hef-Alador.”

           
“This one!” Wynett cried. “Harm him
and your soul is in peril!”

           
The barbarian glared at her, chewing
on his mustache, then stepped close, raising his bow until the arrow was aimed
directly at Kedryn’s face. The tip of the arrowhead almost touched the
sightless orb of Kedryn’s right eye. Kedryn sensed the presence of the man,
caught the sour odor of ancient sweat, and held his ground, wondering what it
was Wynett had said.

           
“Mayhap he is,” the barbarian
allowed at last, “though he does not look like the slayer of Niloc Yarrum to
me.”

           
“Did you see him defeat the
hef-Ulan?” Wynett demanded. “Were you there when he faced your chieftain?”

           
The tribesman glanced at her and
grimaced, lowering the bow. “No,” he allowed, “I was not, but ...”

           
“You had best tread carefully,”
Wynett interrupted, seizing the advantage she saw in his doubt. “Unless you are
anxious to embrace the eagle. You slay the hef-Alador at your peril.”

           
The man licked his lips and turned
his head toward his fellows, barking a question.

           
One shrugged and said, “Kill them
anyway. Who will know?”