Fate Defied: The Silent Tempest, Book 3 (8 page)

Telai scanned the bitter landscape. Her eyes saw nothing, ears heard nothing beyond the cry of the wind.

In an instant her heart was leaping. “Slink! Find, find!”

With a gruff bark the dog sprang forward. She leaped for the sled, wrested the spade free of its bindings, and followed him up the slope. It was difficult to keep up with Slink, who was already far ahead, roaming back and forth with his nose to the surface. Dared she hope?

Inch by inch the dog homed in on the source. Telai caught up, desperate to help, yet could only stand and wait in mounting frustration. The sun had fallen well beneath the high cliffs by now, the sky was darkening, and she feared night would fall before she could find Tenlar.

Slink gave out a bark. Telai fell beside him and started digging, careful not to plunge the spade too deeply, hoping with all her might that Tenlar was still alive.

To keep the hole from collapsing she was forced to angle it down the slope, forming a trench. Each layer was packed harder than the last, and her arms grew weaker by the minute. Suddenly the snow erupted beneath her. She fell back, startled. A body struggled free. Slink backed off, panting clouds of moisture into the air, while Telai cried out and reached down to help her comrade from the snow.

It was not Tenlar. It was Beggar, his lead dog, the one who had broken free before the avalanche. The dog licked her, whining with gratitude, but Telai slumped back in despair.

Beggar struggled in the loosened snow, and Telai broke from her spell of grief to help. Sobs shook her as she yanked on his forelegs, fury at the cruelty of nature: she did not have the strength to pull him out.

The animal yelped pitifully, and she collapsed against the side of the hole again. He kept turning his head toward his hindquarters, as though trying to chew or bite on something, so she struggled back to her knees and groped about.

Her gloved hand found the last remnant of his harness, a leather strap drawn tight by his efforts to climb out. She dug her feet in the snow and hauled back with what strength she possessed, hoping to break it free from whatever it was caught on. But it was no use.

Telai searched her clothes for a knife, keeping her grip in one hand … and three distinct tugs yanked the strap back into the snow.

For an instant she hesitated, wondering if she imagined it. Then she dove in, abandoning the shovel, digging as if she had gone mad. She stopped only to pull twice on the strap, and cried out in joy as it tugged three more times in response.

She worked at the snow like a frenzied rabbit, her lungs sawing air from the effort. Slink tried to help, but the other dog blocked his way. Beggar proved to be a hindrance to Telai as well, for his struggle to escape kept collapsing the walls of the hole.

The snow turned sodden and less packed, easier to dig. Foot by foot she burrowed, until a hand shot out and groped in the air.

She gripped it with newfound strength, tears freezing against her cheeks. An ashen, blue-lipped face emerged, a snow-soaked head of hair, a crooked smile more like a grimace. Then another hand broke free.

It was still holding a laser.

6

Bitter Mornings

No greater pain exists for a commander

than the necessity of leaving his friends behind in peril.

- Bannlef, Master Raén of Enilií

A TINY CAMPFIRE
glimmered beneath the west wall of Crooked Pass, two huddled figures and the dogs curled beside them casting long shadows over the drifting slope behind. Telai knew there was little chance of any rescue out of Enilií before their strength gave out or they ran out of food.

Tenlar was too exhausted to speak, other than of the need for warmth, food, and rest. These Telai provided for him. His sled, his sword, and all but one of his dogs, were gone. The fire soon reduced their short supply of wood to embers, and though the wind had dropped the relentless cold troubled his sleep. They both needed a long rest, preferably with shelter, but the tent was on Tenlar’s sled, buried deep.

The top of the cliff blazed gold with the dawn. Telai roused herself to extract the remaining supply of food from her half-buried sled. She fed the dogs well and prepared a cold but large breakfast, for they all needed their strength to reach Enilií. Afterward Tenlar sat motionless, his red, swollen face barely recognizable as he stared at the dead fire.

“Caleb Stenger’s weapon saved my life.” His hoarse voice was rife with bitterness.

Having finished with her chores for now, Telai sat beside him to listen to his story. “I still can’t believe you’re alive. Your feet got caught in Beggar’s harness, didn’t it?”

“Damned dog,” he muttered, but Telai smiled: he was rubbing the animal’s ears.

“Well, I never would have found you if it hadn’t been for Slink.”

He shook his head. “Telai, I’ve known fear in battle—but nothing like this. The snow was packed so hard it was like being encased in stone. I couldn’t even breathe properly. So there I was, not knowing whether you were dead or alive, or if anyone could save me. I almost went mad with it.”

He swallowed thickly, winced at the resulting pain, then continued. “I don’t know how I managed to hold on to the laser when the avalanche hit. But I thought I might be able to use its heating powers to melt the snow around me.” He shrugged. “A wild chance, especially since I wasn’t sure which way to shoot.”

“I was disoriented, too, at first,” Telai said. “But I was close to the surface, and had a faint light to guide me.”

“Well, my idea solved both problems at once. I pressed the contact of the laser, and felt a cold trickle running down my hand.” He changed positions with a groan.

“Take your time,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The hint of a smile turned his cracked lips. “Not tired of my company yet?”

“Not until Slink gets better at conversation.”

Tenlar grinned wider, then gasped as his lower lip split open.

“Sorry,” Telai murmured. She dabbed at the thick blood with a tattered cloth she kept inside her coat. “I never did learn when to shut up.” His eyes so close to hers were filled with memories, but she pretended not to notice until the bleeding slowed and he resumed his tale.

“I used the laser to melt a space around my head and shoulders. Water pooled around me and soaked my clothes, so I had to stop for a bit. But at least it gave me a little more room to breathe. Then I changed my aim and held the trigger long enough to form a tunnel a few inches wide.”

“I must have been half blind not to see that,” Telai said.

“No. Remember what Caleb Stenger told us? You can’t see it when it’s used to heat things like that. But I wish I’d thought of it. A few regular shots and you would have found me a lot sooner.”

“I think you did pretty well, under the circumstances. Besides, you might have brought down another avalanche on our heads.”

“Or sliced you in two, for Orand’s sake! Anyway, I felt a draft against my skin, or thought I did. So I made another hole, then lay back and hoped for the best. I was too worn out to do much more. Besides, there was too much snow to burn through.” He coughed suddenly, a raw, wheezing effort that put a worried crease between Telai’s brows. “I never felt happier in my life than when I felt that leather thong tug on my leg,” he said. “I wouldn’t have lasted much longer.”

“You still need help, though. Your face is frostbitten, and that cough sounds terrible.”

“Is any part of my skin black or dark?”

“No. But you should keep it covered, especially after we get started.”

“I will. Another meal or two and plenty to drink should take care of my cough. We should get below the timberline—we need shelter and firewood. I don’t think I’ll be able to walk or stand for a while, but I can ride.”

“I’ll get everything ready,” she said, and rose to her feet.

“I don’t understand it, Telai. Seeing Hodyn near Udan or Ekendoré would be no great surprise. But this far west?”

She scrutinized the brilliant landscape. “I don’t understand it, either. How did they get past the Raéni? I can’t believe they’d miss a set of tracks leading all the way from Dernetondé.”

“Well, we’ll solve that puzzle later. We need to get moving, especially if there’s any more Hodyn in the area.”

Digging the sled out of the snow proved to be long, hard work, but Telai refused to let Tenlar help. She cleared a sloping trough away from the slide, then led the dogs over and retied the harnesses. At her first command they only stirred a little, stubborn and uncooperative, but after a few stinging cracks from the whip they yelped and strained forward. She detested such treatment, but their survival was at stake. With her own strength added to their efforts the sled pulled free of its grave, shedding clumps of snow as it emerged into the sunshine.

The dog with the injured haunch whined and lowered to the snow. Telai had no choice but to let him ride with Tenlar. She finished packing, helped settle Tenlar into the sled, then after erasing the signs of their stay resumed the journey to Enilií. The team pulled well for such a heavy load, not to mention having survived an avalanche. After a few minutes of anxious hauling they cleared the slide and headed toward the northern end of the gorge.

They passed the timberline before noon, and by evening had ridden well out of the bitter winds of Crooked Pass. It was a relief to bivouac within the dense shelter of the woods, and to have a roaring fire and a hot meal. There were no tracks anywhere to be seen, Hodyn or otherwise, but Tenlar had already decided to approach Enilií with caution.

♦

As the following day wore on Telai noticed a slow change to the forest, at once both familiar and unfamiliar; the trees stood farther apart, with their branches well-groomed and the snow-covered ground beneath clear of debris and undergrowth. The road widened, plowed and well-used. Soon the travelers emerged from the woods into a vast open area, acres upon acres of cherry orchards, and fields thick with brambles that in summer were laden with the famous raspberries of Enilií. But it was winter now, the air still and quiet with the approach of night.

A host of white chimney plumes rose in the distance, lit by the city’s emerging lights. Where the road passed the southern border of Enilií stood the remnant of an ancient battlement, scarred by centuries of frost, with an open gate beneath. It looked odd all alone and surrounded by houses and fields, but long ago, during the threat of Hodyn invasion, it had formed the main gate of a towering wall around the city. Following the establishment of Ekendoré and Udan that threat had faded, and the walls became a needless burden, for winter storms piled huge drifts about them. So they were torn down, the gate left as a monument to the past, and folk trusted their safety to the vigilance of the Raéni.

Now, as her sled halted at the last memory of Enilií’s stone defenses, Telai wondered if the people should have endured those troublesome drifts. An old, nearly toothless Raén emerged from a little door inside the arch, greeted them brusquely, and asked their names and purpose. In reply Tenlar drew out a crumpled letter from inside his coat. The old man scanned the letter with his watery eyes, then returned it with a stiff bow.

“Pardon my not recognizing you on sight, my lord. And pardon my suspicion. There are rumors of Hodyn in the district of late. Though you’re obviously not one of them, Lord Kenda ordered that no unidentified stranger be allowed past the gate.”

“No apology necessary,” Tenlar said. “I’m acquainted with the First Underseer: a wise man. Just be careful not to mention that letter or our arrival to anyone until we’ve had a chance to talk to him.”

“Of course,” the old man said, beginning to shiver. After another bow he turned and shuffled to the door, which he creaked open and shut with as much eagerness as prudence allowed.

Few folk were out on such a cold evening, and most inns closed with the first heavy snowfall. Yet one remained open,
The
Northern Mist,
a large building shadowed by tall oaks next to the Underseer’s Hall. Once inside its thick double doors they stopped to wait in the lobby. It stood empty, and they threw their hoods back, basking in the pleasure of a heated room for the first time in many days.

After a minute or so a middle-aged, heavy-set woman entered. She was dressed in a clean apron, and wore a smile of welcome, at least until she looked closely at Tenlar.

“Hendra have mercy! I’ll send for the doctor.”

Tenlar scowled. “I’m not at death’s door, good woman.”

“Thank you,” Telai said to her, throwing a reproachful glance at Tenlar. “Our team outside needs attention as well.”

“And Kenda should be notified of our arrival at once,” Tenlar added.

“I’ll take care of it. This way,” she offered with a gesture, and they followed her down a narrow hallway to the left. They stood at two doors side by side. “I hope these are to your liking—” she began, then stopped. “I beg your pardon, are you two Joined?”

Tenlar kept a straight face, but his eyes twinkled, and Telai stifled a blistering remark. “No, these will be fine,” he answered, opening a door to look inside. “We’ll be waiting in the first room for Lord Kenda. And, if you please, er … ”

“Laiyara.”

“Laiyara,” he continued, “I haven’t been this hungry since my training days in Ekendoré.”

“Say no more,” she said, one hand raised, and left for the kitchen.

Telai took the first room, one nearly identical to Tenlar’s: a single window facing the street, a carved stone hearth with a cozy little fire burning, small but well-crafted furniture—and a tall, soft bed so inviting that she blinked in a sudden wave of drowsiness. She fought it off, draped her coat over a chair, and stood waiting for Tenlar to join her.

Several minutes passed, and Telai wondered what was keeping him. She stepped around to the other room, and there he was, sprawled out on his bed, snoring softly. She smiled, then uttered a soft oath as her lower lip split and bled freely.

Tenlar revived at the sound and jumped to his feet. He followed her back to her room. “Now we match,” he said, pointing at her as he sat in a chair by the hearth. “Perhaps the doctor should look at you, too. You don’t exactly have a baby’s complexion, either.”