Leaves of Flame (56 page)

“For what?”

“I can only imagine a grab for the Evant. We know that has been Peloroun’s objective for decades. Even more so since his fall after the Escarpment.”

Thaedoren frowned. What Aeren said made sense, and yet
it didn’t feel right. Or at least, not complete. There was something beneath what Aeren suggested, something deeper that Aeren held back, and he thought he knew what it was.

“You think they’re working with Lotaern.”

Aeren stilled, then said warily, “There’s nothing to suggest it.”

Thaedoren scowled. “But that’s what you think.” He paused in thought, factoring in the Chosen, then shook his head. “I should never have made the Order equivalent to a House.”

Aeren’s lips thinned. “Why did you?”

“I thought it might end the conflict between you and Lotaern, or at least settle it once and for all. You wanted him out of the Evant, but it was clear that many of the lords—­and a significant portion of the general population—­felt the Order should have its say as well, especially with the resurgence of the sukrael. By solidifying the Order’s presence in the Evant, I thought you would turn your energies elsewhere, into curbing him legally if nothing else.”

“Was it Reanne’s idea?” Aeren asked bluntly.

The accusation stabbed into Thaedoren’s gut, hard, but he shook his head. “No. It was mine.” At Aeren’s look of doubt, he added with emphasis, “Solely mine.”

“Regardless, Lotaern took it as an implicit blessing of his actions. You’ve seen him in the Evant. He’s become aggressive, pursuing his own interests with abandon, and using Aielan and the existence of the Wraiths as his prod. If Peloroun and Orraen are working with him, he holds three out of nine votes, and you know a few of the other lords will follow their lead.”

“Orraen and Peloroun don’t always side with Lotaern.”

“But if they do when something of significance comes to the floor? Do you realize that he has yet to remove any of his Flame from the temples in any of the House lands? He has ignored the edict—­from the Evant and from you.”

Thaedoren leaned forward onto the table, head bowed. His chest still ached over Reanne, but he needed to focus on the Evant, on salvaging the situation if at all possible. “We need to curb them in the Evant. And we need to call on our own allies to back us when necessary. Who can we count on? And how are we going to find a connection between Peloroun, Orraen, and Lotaern?”

Aeren shifted forward. “Lord Saetor has shown some promise recently.…”

Thaedoren nodded as he pushed back from the table and listened. He knew he could count on Aeren—­and Fedaureon and his mother, of course—­but his thoughts turned toward his brother, Daedelan, the White Fox, who’d arrived in the city late last night. He would have to be apprised of the situation.

He did not think Daedelan would like the fall of recent events in Caercaern. Not at all.

“Are they moving out yet?”

Eraeth shook his head from his perch on top of a sandy red outcropping of rock overlooking the chasm beyond. “No. It doesn’t look like they’ll be moving any time soon.”

Colin glanced toward Siobhaen, who paced in the shadow cast by the cliffs that surrounded them. She scowled toward the distance, one hand on her cattan, the other tossing a stone in a nervous gesture.

When she saw Colin watching her, she asked hopefully, “Can we kill them?”

They’d entered the Thalloran Wastelands days before, the land breaking up, earth cracked so much they’d been forced to descend into the chasms between the tan-­and-­red rocks in order to continue, walking in shadows for most of the day, crumbling cliff faces to either side. It became immediately apparent that the horses were slowing them
down, and that finding food and water for them would be problematic. After much discussion, it had been decided to leave the horses behind. They’d set them free on the outskirts of dwarren lands in the hopes that the dwarren scouts would reclaim them. Colin suspected the Wraith army would find them first.

They’d entered the chasms of the wasteland shortly after that. Colin had found his shoulders itching at the sense of confinement, tension creeping into his muscles at the claustrophobia. He couldn’t help feeling that the rock on either side would give way and bury them all. Even though the walls concealed them well from the strange birdlike creatures, he found himself seeking the more open chasms and the wider blue sky overhead.

But while they were concealed from the creatures Eraeth had begun calling taeredacs, they
were
threatened by the small groups of the Haessari that were scattered throughout the labyrinthine crevices. Progress had slowed as they found themselves cutting back when a chosen path ended in two cliff faces merging or narrowing too much for them to pass. It had slowed even further after they’d encountered the first group of Snake People. That fight had been short, and Colin believed they’d only survived because both groups had been caught off guard. If the Haessari scouts had seen them coming, they could have ambushed them, killing them all with the small poison-­tipped darts they all seemed to carry, or with their strange S-­shaped swords.

At least, killing Eraeth and Siobhaen. Colin would have survived, although he wasn’t certain what the poison would have done to him.

They’d been more wary after that, Colin scouting ahead with time slowed to determine the best path and making certain there were no surprises from the Haessari. After the first two days, he’d begun to feel the edge of exhaustion
from halting time often, and in such short bursts. It was easier to use it in longer intervals, but the Snake People changed position too often for him to scout too far ahead.

Still, they’d eluded at least ten of the groups within the crevasses.

Until now.

He met Siobhaen’s gaze. “No. I don’t want the Wraiths to know that we’re coming. If we kill too many of the Haessari scouts, they’ll know, and they’ll be ready.”

Siobhaen frowned, then turned back to pacing with a low growl. “We’ve been waiting for nearly an hour,” she muttered under her breath.

From his lookout, Eraeth asked, “Are you certain there’s no other way around them? That we have to go through the chasm ahead?”

Colin sighed, felt the exhaustion on his shoulders, dragging him down. “I’ve been through every fissure, crevice, turn, and niche for an hour’s walk in every direction—­with time slowed—­and none of them seem to bypass the open area ahead.”

Eraeth grunted, then began crawling down from his perch. He dislodged some of the loose sand and rock, stones rattling against each other, and stilled, double-­checking on the Haessari beyond, then continued more carefully.

“We may have to kill them then,” Eraeth said, dusting himself off. “They’re settling in. I think they’re preparing to start a fire. There’s a circle of stones and what looks like a fire pit. And with nightfall only a few hours away—­”

“—­they’ll need the heat.”

From his seat at the relatively flat base of the crevasse, Colin reached down and dug his fingers into the soil at his side and closed his eyes, sinking into the earth far enough that he could feel the pulse of the Lifeblood deep within. Since they’d reached the edge of dwarren lands, he’d been using the flows of the Lifeblood to guide them, its currents
drawing them farther east and slightly north. Within the last day or so, he’d begun to sense the Source, its pull immense. It pulsed through the ground and he shuddered and tasted the leaf, loam, and snow of the Lifeblood in the back of his throat. With effort, he withdrew, lifting his hand from the earth at his feet. It trembled.

“We’re close,” he said, and even his voice was shaky, sounding like gravel. He coughed and drew his hand across his mouth. “I think the Source lies just beyond, within a day’s walk, perhaps less.”

Eraeth’s face pinched with concern, but he said nothing. “This may be a regular outpost, manned at all times. If there is no other path through for some distance, it would make sense to keep a patrol here. They might never leave.”

“Then we should kill them,” Siobhaen said, “instead of wasting time sitting here talking about it. What if they send out scouts?”

Eraeth nodded grudgingly. “I think Siobhaen is right. We can’t risk waiting for them to leave on their own.”

“Good,” Siobhaen muttered, drawing her sword soundlessly, a vicious smile twisting her lips. “I don’t like these Snake People. They’re unnatural.”

Colin recalled how singularly brutal she’d been taking some of them in that first surprise encounter and grimaced. “I would still like to keep our presence a secret.”

“Not possible any longer.”

He stood and met their gazes. “There is a way. I’ll slow time for both of you as well as me. We can slip past them.” At their skeptical looks, he added, “I’ve done it before, with the Tamaea on the battlefields at the Escarpment.”

“You were exhausted afterward,” Eraeth said. “This would be two people—­”

“I’m stronger and more practiced now.”

Eraeth glowered. “—­and do you really want to be weakened while facing off with the Wraiths?”

“I don’t think we have a choice.”

Eraeth and Siobhaen remained quiet for a long moment, long enough Colin held out his hands for them to take. Neither one of them moved.

“Do you really think the Wraiths don’t know of your presence?” Eraeth asked, his voice level. “You sensed the Wraith army, were concerned they would sense you when you went down to scout it out. What makes you think they don’t already know that you’re coming?”

“I sensed the army because it was so large. It would be nearly impossible to miss. There are only three of us.”

“But they still may have sensed you.”

“I can’t sense the Wraiths right now. I assume they can’t sense me.”

“But you don’t know that for certain.”

Colin glared in irritation, then dropped his hands. “No. I can’t guarantee that.”

“Then the risk is too high. I won’t allow you to exhaust yourself for something this trivial. We’ll take out the patrol. If that forewarns the Wraiths, then so be it.”

He turned away and motioned toward Siobhaen. Colin thought about defying him, grasping both of their arms and slowing time regardless. But he wouldn’t be able to get them to move and couldn’t possibly drag them both beyond the patrol. So when Eraeth turned, he let his anger and frustration tinge his voice as he said, “I’ll take them out.”

“No. You’re already weak from the scouting. Siobhaen and I can handle it.”

He shot a look toward Siobhaen for confirmation and she nodded.

“When we reach the Source, I’ll need you to do what I ask without question,” Colin said.

Eraeth ignored him, speaking to Siobhaen. “There are six of them, three each.”

“Two each,” Colin said, reaching for his staff. “I can fight without the use of the Lifeblood.”

“Then two each. Siobhaen, you take the left, I’ll take the right. The cleft opens up into an oval-­shaped gap, but they’re stationed on the far side, near the mouth of the crevice. They’ve set their packs and supplies to one side. Leave your packs here. We’ll come back and get them when we’re done.”

Colin gripped the handle of his staff, massaging the wood. “Don’t risk yourselves if they try to use their darts. I don’t know what the poison will do to me, but I doubt it will kill me.”

“I don’t plan on giving them time to do anything but draw their swords,” Siobhaen said. She turned to Eraeth. “Ready?”

He grinned.

Then they were running, rounding the rock outcropping Eraeth had used to spy on the group and sprinting toward the Haessari. The dry heat of the wastelands burned in Colin’s throat as he tried to control his breathing. None of them made a sound, Siobhaen and Eraeth pulling out slightly ahead of him, even as he pushed and allowed himself to grow younger, faster, more lithe and nimble. He fixed his attention on the six figures ahead, the Snake People sitting around a fire pit made of stone, slabs of rock laid out on all sides for them to sun on. One of them was crouched down, setting wood into the pit, although it hadn’t been lit yet. One other stood off to one side, holding what looked like a brace of rabbits. Their conversation was sibilant, full of elongated vowel sounds, although Colin found it hard to hear much over the rush of blood in his ears and the thud of his own feet juddering through his body.

The one making the fire saw them first, when they were twenty paces away. A sharp warning hiss escaped him.

The others reacted instantly. Their movements were fast and fluid, but Colin had been expecting it after that first startling confrontation. He closed the distance before the one who’d hissed had completely drawn his sword, his staff cracking into the Snake’s head with enough force to jar Colin’s arm and set it tingling. Blood flew, but the Haessari crumpled to the ground and Colin leaped over him, putting himself in the middle of the group. He heard the clash of weapons, punctuated by short hisses and grunts, but he didn’t spare a moment to look at either Eraeth or Siobhaen. With a sharp thrust, he punched his staff into the stomach of the nearest Snake, turned as the creature folded, and tried to swing toward the one on his right. But the first had grabbed hold of the wooden shaft. He ducked as the second swung his sword, bringing his staff up to block it, twisting even as he sent a surge of power down the staff into the first’s hands. The Snake gasped and let go, even as the second growled and drew back for another strike. Colin snapped the staff upward and hit the first under the snout, the Snake reeling backward, then spun and caught the second’s next cut in the staff’s center.