A Time of Dying (Araneae Nation) (22 page)

“We’re close now.” He turned from the valley with reluctance. “We must remain vigilant.”

“Will we stop tonight?” I resisted the urge to see the camp once more. “So close to there?”

He considered his answer. “We slept an equal distance from there last night none the wiser.”

“And now that we are wiser?”

“We continue on as planned.” He took the slight incline on our left. “If Bram rests at sunset, he’s decided the camp and its inhabitants are no threat to them—or to us. We’ll follow his lead.”

“I doubt they saw the camp.” Their trail was lower and wound to the right before ours did.

“Don’t underestimate Bram,” Murdoch warned. “I would be surprised if he missed anything. He didn’t endear himself to Isolde by being blind to his surroundings or deaf to whispers that the brave mutter outside of her hearing. He’s sly and as full of secrets as she is. No doubt that’s why they enjoy one another’s company so well. Neither of them knows what the other will do next.”

I recalled how smoothly Bram had abandoned me into Isolde’s care. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

In this matter, I trusted his and Isolde’s interests aligned with ours. Isolde’s reason was clear to me. She wanted proof to safeguard her clan from a threat her son had not yet acknowledged. It was harder to ascertain Bram’s interest, unless he meant to woo Isolde into accepting his pledge.

What else did he have to gain by cozying up with the Mimetidae? Unless that too was a part of his oath to the Araneidae, playing peacekeeper between the two newly aligned clans’ families.

Shoving that tangled web aside, I left Bram to his scheming. I had not the head for intrigue.

As long as I was not endangered by his and Isolde’s machinations, let him pluck those silken threads of conspiracy to his heart’s content. Should he attempt to ensnare me, well, then I would have to turn to the source. What Isolde wanted exactly was as yet unclear, but I had no doubt that Bram would see she got it, and whether it cost me and Murdoch trouble was an ancillary concern to them if we warranted their regard at all. How simple life had seemed before meeting Murdoch.

I ought to have known if I did a simple thing long enough it would become complicated.

I had woken each night, ate if there was food and drank if there was water. If there was not, I did without. I followed rumors of the plague, uncovered burial grounds and did my part to ensure no victims rose once their families laid them to rest. If only all clans burned bodies without such ceremony. But then I suppose I would have been left bereft of purpose and ignorant to the danger facing our clans, our world, because if no cure was found and no actions taken, all would be lost.

Tendrils of smoke curled in the bleak night air, telling us Bram had made camp. As cold as I was, I wished he had urged his group onward. At least the movement would have kept me warm. Instead, they began dinner preparations while resting comfortably by the modest fire they started.

“I wish I had gloves.” Flexing my fingers made their joints creak from the cold.

Murdoch frowned at me. “Who in the southlands owns a pair except when traveling north?”

“I did, to prevent rocks from cutting my hands.” Scabs I had earned on this trip would scar.

He made a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat that I recognized as Murdoch solving a problem. I doubted there were gloves in his pack, but I didn’t doubt he would give a substitute consideration. It was what he did. He saw problems in need of fixing and tackled them to the ground.

I knew. I had spent plenty of time under him myself.

“Can you set us up for the night?” He was walking, swirling a cup in hand.

“Of course.” He organized our camp most nights, and I had no problem doing my part.

After sliding the worn bedroll from his pack, I flicked my wrists to straighten it, then spread it on the smoothest of the available surfaces. My back muscles protested when I bent to unfold an edge that had curled. By the time I straightened, Murdoch stood nearby with a frown that told me plainly he regretted my being here. Oh, I think he found my company to his liking, but I knew he wished he had more to offer than rock-hard bedding, frigid air and dried food. I say that he did.

His body heat was my favorite provision, but his cheeks went ruddy when I counted that.

“I was thinking on what you said last night, about the fruit.” He offered me his cup. “Here.”

“I didn’t mean it as a complaint.” If you ate dried fruit, it was bound to stick in your teeth.

“I didn’t take it as one.” He swirled the contents as if to mix them. “Try this.”

I took his cup and put it at my mouth.

“No.” He grasped the edge and lowered it until he could reach inside. “It’s not a drink.”

He withdrew a fat berry and put it at my lips. The skin was wrinkled still, but Murdoch must have soaked them overnight to get them so plump. My teeth sank into the soft flesh, and I sighed.

“How did you manage that?” In so small a camp, we couldn’t turn and not bump elbows.

“I have my ways.”

“Clearly.” I took the cup and selected another lush berry, popping it into his mouth.

“Those are yours,” he protested.

“They are mine,” I agreed, twisting his male logic. “That’s why I can choose to share them.”

He accepted a second berry with a scowl less fierce than he intended, I’m sure.

Together we sat on the bedroll and stared off the mountain into the night. It was clear. Half the moon shone. Stars were a handful of shimmering crystals flung far across the blackened sky.

It was a good night for hunting.

The thought chilled me. “Do you think it’s wise to have a fire so close to the valley camp?”

Murdoch lowered his gaze to the whirl of smoke curling like a beckoning finger.

“It’s not what I would have done,” he admitted, “but I can’t very well make them put it out.”

“True.” We were too close to our journey’s end to risk revealing ourselves now.

We finished the berries, chewed on meat sticks until our bellies were full, and when I looked at Murdoch, he looked back in the way he sometimes did that told me his hunger was in no way slacked. Swallowing was painful when he did that. I drank deeply from my cup to wet my throat.

“We’ve done all we can today.” I patted the fabric beneath us. “It’s time for bed.”

“How far is the city from the other side of the pass?” He lay down with a groan.

“Not far.” I let him settle. “We won’t be gone long from one before reaching the other.”

I was surprised he had known of the pass, which was not common knowledge to outsiders.

As if reading my mind, he explained, “It’s been a long time since I had cause to visit Titania. I recall the pass so well because Paladin Vaughn mentioned its precise location to those warriors sent to guard the Segestriidae border in case a fast escape route onto our lands was ever needed.”

I quirked a brow. “He instructed his warriors to run home at the first sign of danger?”

“No.” He closed his eyes. “He wanted them to know how best to evacuate the city.”

“Hmm.” I borrowed his tactic, which succeeded in making one of his eyes crack open. “It seems that Mimetidae are less cruel than I was led to believe.”

“If your clan was poor or possessed something of lesser value to my paladin, then you would find our reputation is well-founded. When we can afford to be kind, we are, but that is not often.”

After having met Isolde, I believed him. She was witty and kind, unless you crossed her.

“It’s my understanding there are no guards left in the city, except for a few Segestriidae that rallied after the Theridiidae’s dismissal.” He gave no concern for them. His quick dismissal stung my pride, but he was right. We were not fighters. “I doubt we’ll have trouble reaching the manor.”

“If any structure is still guarded, his home will be. I know ways around that, though.”

He grew smug. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“There are treasures there.” Including a library Murdoch would envy. “He would not forgive their loss. By default, the hidden passageways will also be guarded. We will have to be careful.”

He folded his arms behind his head. “We will think of something when the time comes.”

Once he got comfortable, I lay down beside him, placing my head on his chest. It was how I loved to sleep, snuggled close to him, ear to his heart, which beat so steadily it gave me courage.

“It’s bright out tonight,” Murdoch observed.

“So I noticed.” I glanced up to find him staring at me rather than the moon.

I saw his expression, and the longing there made me ache.

Turning my head, I gave the sky my attention instead. It was safer than facing him just now. It was then I saw a blur darken the waning moon. I propped on my elbow, let my earring swing.

Gentle vibrations set the wire in my ear tingling. Squinting at the blur, I realized it was not a blur at all. As I stared, the shape took on definition. Female form, wisps of torn gown and wings.

A harbinger. Here. Flying low across the mountains. Over our camp. What were the odds?

Forget there was more than one harbinger. This one’s outline was familiar. Too familiar.

Paranoia made me certain the harbinger from Cathis had tracked us here.

Cold sweat drenched my back, and I bolted upright. “Look.”

He did, jerking into a sitting position. “Where is she going, do you think?”

“Hunting.” I sounded bitter. “Where else?”

Murdoch said what I had been thinking. “She came from the direction of Titania.”

My heart clenched, and I nodded.

He put his hand on my shoulder. “Do you think it’s the same one we’re after?”

“I doubt it. Hishima had his mother in chains. I doubt he would free her while he was away.”

“Which means a second one was in the area.” His voice lowered. “I don’t like this.”

“That makes two of us.” I glanced around the exposed ledge, feeling vulnerable.

“Quick.” He pushed to his feet. “Help me gather our supplies.”

I gathered the bedroll while he shoved our other supplies into his pack.

I searched for anything we might have missed. “What are we going to do?”

“
We
are going to do nothing.” He spun me from the ledge. “
I
am going to warn the others.”

He nudged me into the chill shadows cast from a rocky outcropping, tossed the bedroll to the ground, pushed my shoulders until I sat. Our pack he set on my lap. He rubbed my arms as we stared at one another, silent questions zinging between us. How to convince Bram to take the harbinger threat seriously. How to prevent them from attacking and detaining Murdoch on sight.

“Stay here.” He brushed a rough kiss across my lips. “I will return for you.”

“If you don’t,” I promised him, “I will come for you.”

He took my vow without enthusiasm but knew protesting would only delay his departure.

Murdoch stood at the ledge overlooking their camp before I felt the draft of his passing. In profile, I caught the widening of his eyes. His complexion paled until his skin matched the moon.

“May the two gods be merciful,” he breathed.

“Murdoch?” His name tasted of goodbye.

He raised his hand, faced the ledge, gauging the distance, and leapt.

My heart jumped with him, right into my throat. I didn’t scream, though I felt one rising.

Scrambling from the crevice, I scrabbled over rocks until reaching the ledge. I took a breath. Risers. Everywhere. They flowed down the path like a river, unstoppable, sweeping over Bram’s guards and carrying one away. His screams made my blood turn cold, made my stomach clench.

In the thick of the risers, Murdoch and Bram danced around the small campfire. It was weak protection they abandoned after trampling feet doused the flames. The two remaining guards did their best to hold back the waves of risers spilling into their camp, but the four were outmatched.

They were pressed inward, pinned against the rock wall by the risers, cut off from all means of escape. Once they hit that wall, there would be no room to maneuver. Their swords would fail.

Purpose seized me in a flash of inspiration.

I ran to fetch our pack, digging Murdoch’s rope from its interior and tying it tight around the sturdiest boulder I could find near the ledge. I took a risk then, knowing I could sever the rope if my plan failed. Flinging the rope over the edge, I whistled loud enough to set my earring abuzz.

Murdoch lifted his head, swung his gaze my way, and I read the curse on his lips.

It looked suspiciously like my name.

I shook the rope at him. At his side, Bram seemed to understand. He yelled an order that was muted from this distance over the hum of the earring in my head and the bellowed cries of risers. As the enemy pressed forward, Murdoch and Bram retreated with the others at their backs. I kept hold of the rope, fearful an opportunistic riser might grasp it, but none came close enough to try.