The Five Elements (12 page)

Finally, Aaron reached out and took it. He felt like he should draw the blade, test its balance, examine its workmanship. That was what a soldier or mercenary would do. But he was neither. He inserted the sheath under his belt and, again, murmured a thank you. Then, before his courage failed him, he asked, "Have you any shoes?"

The eslar's gaze went to Aaron's feet, which were pale with cold where muck still clung to them. Ensel Rhe shook his head. "No. You'll have to make do." Then he hoisted his pack to his shoulder and started walking away from the floodwaters and Norwynne.

"Wait!"

Master Rhe stopped.

"Where are you going?" Aaron asked.

He jammed a thumb over one shoulder. "This way."

"But, what is that way?"

"That is not important right now. What is important is that we get as far from the city as possible. The dwarves will be looking for us."

The eslar was just making to turn again when Aaron blurted, "But… we can't just leave! There's folk there that need our help."

"There is nothing either of us can do for them. They are on their own, as are we. Now, let's go." Without looking to see if Aaron followed, the eslar set off, disappearing into the dark.

At first, Aaron stayed put. Glancing in the direction of Norwynne, he eyed the skiff, which had gotten caught in the mud and not gone far. He looked past it, into the dark. Somewhere out there were dwarves who, for reasons unknown, wanted to kill him. Going back would be foolish. Suicidal, even. Yet was fleeing any less? Aside from some outlying farms and a smattering of mills, there was nothing around Norwynne for leagues. Unless Master Rhe meant to hole up in one of those, Aaron had no idea where they were going. He could either stay here alone in the dark and find no answers at all or attempt to coerce any bit of information from Master Rhe that he could. He chose the latter.

Once he'd caught up, Aaron positioned himself directly in the eslar's path. "Why did you save me? I mean, why only me?"

Ensel Rhe only stared at him with his stark white eyes. For a moment, Aaron wondered if he was not going to answer, but then he said, "I don't know."

"What—What do you mean you don't know?"

"I was asked that if things should come to their worst to get you from the city."

"But… why? By whom? Master Elsanar?"

The eslar would say nothing more as he gestured for Aaron to start moving. Aaron looked at him a moment longer, then he sighed. He was stuck. He couldn't go back, and while he didn't necessarily want to go forward, he also knew he couldn't stay here. He had no choice but to fall into step and go where Master Rhe led.

They traveled without light into the Grey Hills. Sparsely wooded with smaller foliage that thickened the further they went from the ocean, Master Rhe had little difficulty with the terrain or the faint light. Aaron, though, stumbled or tripped on every root, tangled bush, or piece of deadwood in their path. Ensel Rhe offered no conversation as he remained just far enough ahead to appear near invisible against the dark of the hills. Much of his clothing was dark leather: pants, boots, gloves, and brigandine vest. That, and his long coat, also dark, made him a shadow. Aaron might have quickly lost sight of him if the eslar did not stop at times either to wait or simply to listen. Aaron knew without asking that he listened for signs of pursuit. With his own ears Aaron heard only the usual night sounds: the hum of insects, the chirping of night swallows, the hoot of an owl. But nothing man or, of more concern, dwarven made. Aaron was relieved. While he'd gladly run into other survivors, he'd had enough of dwarves. No sooner had that thought crossed his mind when they heard the sudden sound of voices.

Ensel Rhe sank to a crouch. He motioned at Aaron to do the same. Aaron obeyed, making himself small beneath a canopy of brush. The eslar, ahead, now returned to Aaron's position, kneeling close. A finger at his lips cautioned Aaron into silence. They heard the voices again. Distant, but closing, the words themselves were unintelligible, though they were spoken in such a rush that there was no denying their urgency. Further away a chorus of raucous hollering sounded. Dwarves! Without thinking, Aaron started to rise. A firm hand on his shoulder forced him down. Briefly, he wondered if Master Rhe planned to leap out and slay the raiders just as he'd done in Lord Vuller's hall. One look at the eslar's face told him otherwise. While the fine lines of his cheekbones were rigid and his lips tight, the hand not on Aaron's shoulder remained upon the ground, away from his weapons. His body seemed relaxed, as if he were only waiting for whatever was happening out there to conclude so he and Aaron could continue on their way.

A mad scurrying announced the presence of the lead group. Aaron swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. His stomach was tied in knots, the skin of his forearms and the back of his neck tingling with a preternatural awareness of the violence to come. Though he remained stock-still, part of him wanted to leap up, to wave the refugees to safety before the dwarves appeared, but he was suddenly more afraid for himself. He remembered the dwarves' leering visages, the savage delight in their eyes as they had chased him. Part of him wanted to turn and run right then and there, but he forced himself to remain still. In the next moment, the battle began.

It was over quickly. A short clash of weapons, several sharp shrieks, and then the groans of the dying. Though the scene remained hidden by the shrubbery separating them, Aaron kept his eyes averted anyway. Only when shouting from the invaders told him that the captives had been cowed did he look up through eyes rimmed with tears. He saw torches bobbing in the dark and a ghostly scene was lit before him. In a clearing, dwarves formed a ring around a small group of keep-folk. Aaron watched as the dwarves started to usher them away. Most fell into line, submitting. But one—a woman—had other ideas. Despite repeated orders for her to start moving, she remained frozen in place. One of the dwarves shoved her. She stumbled forward and fell. It looked as if the dwarf meant to kill her. But then someone—one of the captives—intervened, walking forward to offer a hand to the fallen woman. Light from a torch swept across the figure. She was short, lean, with delicate hands and a sweep of raven hair that—

Shanna?

Aaron forgot himself. He started to rise. It couldn't be her. Yet… Aaron's lips parted, whether to call out or not he wasn't sure. He wasn't given the chance. A hand clamped over his mouth and another grabbed hold of him, dragging him down. Aaron struggled until Ensel Rhe draped his full weight across him. He was released only when the dwarves and their captives were gone.

Aaron didn't spare Master Rhe a glance as he rose and then pushed his way through the brush to walk into the clearing where he'd either just seen Shanna or her very likeness. Aaron stared in the direction they'd gone, wondering if he should try following. Instead he turned on Master Rhe.

"Why did you stop me?" he asked, his voice betraying his frustration and anger.

"Revealing our presence would have benefited no one."

"But…" Aaron clenched his fists at his sides. "We could have helped them. I could have helped her escape. I saw her. I know I did." He was sure of it now, though he'd no idea how she could have survived.

Ensel Rhe's eyes narrowed. "More raiders will be scouring the hills. We have to get moving."

Aaron wanted to say more, but met with Master Rhe's hard stare he felt his anger squashed until he felt compelled to nod in acquiescence. Then he was following the eslar deeper into the wilderness. For a time, the hope of seeing Shanna alive sustained him. But it was not long before he began to question what he'd seen. In his mind, the images shifted and changed The hair had not been so long. The shape not so lithe. It had all happened so fast, the sight of her, or the person he'd thought was her, so brief. Aaron remembered the water sucking her down. The horror on her face. The pleading. She was gone. Dead. As much as he wanted her alive, she wasn't. Whoever he had seen had been someone else. It had to have been.

The sun came, finally, but it was only to light the morning sky from behind a thin shield of clouds whose gray threatened rain at any moment. Ensel Rhe did not slacken their pace. For a time, there was only the branches swiping Aaron's body and face and the simple effort of walking. They stopped at intervals, halting only long enough to rest weary legs and feet for a few minutes at most. One time, during one of their breaks, Ensel Rhe offered Aaron a drink from a leather skin. Aaron took a long draught, not realizing how thirsty he was until the cool liquid touched his lips. Ensel Rhe let him drink his fill before taking the skin from him. The eslar took only a small sip for himself. Then, without a word, and far too soon for Aaron's liking, Ensel Rhe started off again.

They'd gone only a league more when a noise—a deep bellowing—stopped them in their tracks as it swept across the hills. Its sound sent chills up and down Aaron's spine. Then it was gone. Moments later, it sounded again.

A horn.

Ensel Rhe turned to face the sound. There was no mistaking that it came from the direction of Norwynne.

In all, the horn sounded four times before the night was finally returned to quiet. When its last crescendo had faded and it seemed there were to be no more, Ensel Rhe spoke.

"Let's get moving."

Except Aaron, try though he might, could not. "I—I can't," Aaron said. "I can't move. The horn—"

"It is only exhaustion. Your body is unaccustomed—"

"No! It's the horn… it did something…" He couldn't explain it in words, but he'd felt it reaching deep into him, clenching at his very soul.

Ensel Rhe did not argue the claim further. Wrapping an arm around Aaron's waist, he half-carried, half-dragged him for a time. They made slow progress that way, but it was obvious to Aaron that Ensel Rhe would rather make small progress than none at all. They stopped to rest more frequently, but for shorter amounts of time. After the third stop, Aaron found his legs obeying him again and he was able to go on unassisted. Still, the horn's sound echoed in his mind. Its call had been strong and loud, as if the blower had stood close. Too close. It had to have been dwarven. Norwynne's criers used horns to convey messages across the city, but he'd never heard the tone of this one's blare before. More than once, Aaron glanced behind, half-expecting to see dwarves spilling from the darkness. Such fears occupied his mind until, without warning and with no regard for Aaron's current state of exhaustion, Master Rhe quickened the pace. Aaron thought to voice a complaint, or a plea, asking him to slow down, but the eslar remained just far enough ahead that Aaron would have to shout for him to hear. Aaron was not about to draw attention to their presence.

The last of his strength was waning fast when Master Rhe finally called for a temporary halt to their death march. Without ceremony, Aaron collapsed to the ground right where he stood.

Ensel Rhe took his sword from his belt and found a place to sit close by. He laid the sheathed blade across his lap. His satchel, which Aaron thought he wore with great nonchalance considering what it held, stayed at his side.

"We should reach our destination mid-day," he said. "Are you hungry?"

Though Aaron barely heard the words through the fog in his mind, his stomach had no such difficulty as it reminded him he'd not eaten in some time. In response to Aaron's nod, Ensel Rhe tossed a small pouch at him. In it Aaron found an assortment of honey cakes which he devoured without thought. The last bite was sliding down his throat before it occurred to him that Ensel Rhe had not eaten and that he may have just consumed all of their food. Any inquiry into the matter was forgotten as he was offered the waterskin once more. Aaron took a long pull, handed it back, and then, without comment or ceremony, curled up on the ground and closed his eyes.

He did not open them, or come fully awake, until he felt a booted foot prodding him.

"Wake up," Aaron heard Ensel Rhe tell him. "Best we get moving again."

With effort, Aaron sat up, extended his arms and stretched. He felt no more rested than before.

"How long was I asleep?"

"A few minutes."

Aaron glanced up at the eslar, who returned his stare.

"A few minutes? Couldn't you have let me sleep a little longer? I'm tired. I haven't slept since yesterday, or the night before. I—I need to rest."

"You need to get up. It isn't safe here."

Was it safe anywhere? Aaron did not voice the question, but instead rose, doing his best to ignore the complaints of his legs.

"You said we'd reach wherever it is we're going by mid-day," Aaron said. "Where
are
we going?"

"Further into the hills. Then into the forest."

Aaron glanced around. Sometime during the night stands of trees had sprung up. While they remained in the Grey Hills, they were not so far from the Dormont. He'd never been so close to the forest before. Which meant that, right now, he was further from the ocean than he'd ever been.

"There is a lodge," the eslar said, offering something more for once. "We'll stop there to rest and re-provision."

"A hunter's lodge?"

Communal lodges dotted the wilderness. As travelers fleeing a disaster, they were well within their rights to seek refuge in one.

"No." Ensel Rhe returned his sword to his belt and settled his pack. "Someone lives there. A woman."

A woman?

"Who?"

"Her name is Ursool."

Aaron did not know the name. He went about making his own preparations, which mostly involved massaging and stretching aching muscles.

"You may know her as the Woman of the Wood."

Aaron stopped. That name he
had
heard.

"The witch?"

"Yes."

"But…" Aaron suppressed a shudder. "But she's a witch!"

Ensel Rhe made no denial. "Yes."

"But why are we…" Aaron had heard the stories. Perhaps Master Rhe had not. "Folk say she's a warty old hag who eats children." That, and more. When young ones were not at hand, she tortured and ate cats, squirrels, dogs… anything she could get her hands on. All gave her a wide berth. When they did not, she made charms of ill nature that she left on their doorsteps. Not for any good reason, but just because she was a wicked, old woman. The Woman of the Wood was not someone you willfully visited. Everyone knew that.