Heart of the Exiled (29 page)

Luruthin nodded in sympathy. Althill’s disadvantage was that it lay off the common trade route, the easier road that crossed the plains just east of the Ebons. They saw traders from the Steppes, mostly, horse breeders who valued the village’s mountain wines and meads.

Vanorin frowned. “Thirty days by caravan. Twelve riding quickly, and that is only to the border. Ghlanhras is at least another six days beyond that. We are behind our pace.”

Taeyani tilted her head. “You are in haste?”

Eliani traded a glance with Luruthin before answering in a lowered voice. “Governor Othanin never replied to Jharan’s summons to the Council. A second envoy was sent but never reached him—we found them slain south of Heahrued.”

“Slain!”

“Please do not speak of it other than to Mirithan. There is no sense in alarming your people. If you should see Kelevon, though, beware of him. He is a traitor. That much you should tell all your citizens.”

Taeyani nodded, eyes wide. Kelevon had been known in Althill.

“So you ride to Fireshore. Do you plan to cross Twisted Pine Pass?”

Luruthin glanced at Eliani. The pass had not occurred to him. The last time any expedition of note had gone through it was before the Battle of Westgard many centuries ago.

Eliani looked as if she had not thought of it, either. “How many days would it save us?”

“With your horses you could cross the pass in four days and be in Fireshore in six or seven.”

“Six days instead of twelve.”

Eliani glanced at Luruthin, plainly weighing the risks. A harder path, and it meant going west of the Ebons, though only slightly. In this cold, there was little likelihood that kobalen would trouble them.

Luruthin turned to Taeyani. “Could you spare us a guide?”

“To the trailhead or all the way to the pass?”

“Whatever you can manage.”

Taeyani smiled wryly, a glint of laughter in her eyes. “I imagine Ghithlaran would be thrilled to miss a few days of chores around the village.”

Eliani looked surprised. “Mirithan will not object?”

“Oh, no. He finds Ghithlaran almost as annoying as he finds you.”

Luruthin stifled his laughter. Vanorin cast him a disapproving look, then shook his head.

“I do not like crossing the Ebons.”

Luruthin turned a lazy glance upon Taeyani. “The trail runs near the peak, does it not?”

“Yes, past the hot springs.”

Vanorin’s eyes lit with interest. Luruthin hid a smile as Eliani reached for the cider ladle.

“We shall take the pass.”

Eliani peered westward into the fog, toward the pale glowing ghost of the sun. Shreds of thicker cloud, troubled by wind but not banished by it, curled around the feeble orb. She looked over her shoulder at her escort, strung out single file as they led their horses over the narrow, rocky track.

A loose stone lay in her path of a size and sharpness to threaten the horses’ hooves. She kicked it off the trail. It clattered as it fell down the steep slope.

The barren rock of the Ebons’ western face was depressing. What few plants grew there were weedy and gnarled, clinging stubbornly to the rock against the constant assault of bitter winds.

Eliani called to their guide, who walked before Vanorin a few paces ahead. “Ghithlaran—should we not begin to look for a camp?”

The youth paused and looked back at her. “It is only a little farther to the crest of the pass. There are springs beyond it; we can reach them by dusk, I think.”

Springs. Yes, that comfort was worth trudging on a bit farther.

Thinking of it made Eliani thirsty. She shook the water skin at her hip, misliking the lightness of it. She left it closed and swallowed with a dry tongue. Her fingers were cold despite her gloves. She felt despair creeping into her heart, and to fight it she signaled Turisan.

Yes, my heart?

Where are you? Have you halted for the night?

Not yet. We are crossing one more ridge before we make camp. How goes your journey? Have you seen any kobalen?

Eliani scoffed aloud.
No kobalen with a scrap of wit would come near this place
.

She glanced up and saw that the sky above her head was shredding, drifts of mist swirling counter to one another. The wind rose in a sharp rush, shrieking around the rocks. Surprised, Eliani halted and leaned against her mount, turning her face from the sudden frigid blast. When the wind subsided, she looked up again and caught her breath.

The fog had broken, the last wisps of it twining away from sharp crags of gray rock. To the northwest a giant mountain towered high above the rest of the range, its peak bare, its slopes streaked with dark stands of pine and rivers of golden firespear. The sun emerged from its shroud to set them ablaze, and Eliani stood rapt. She heard Vanorin exclaim in wonder.

“What is that mountain, Ghithlaran?”

“The Great Sleeper. You can see the Small Sleeper off to the west.”

“Yes.”

The Small Sleeper stood well apart from the Ebons, jutting up from the plain in the distance, not as high but nearly as striking as its larger fellow. It was between those two peaks that Dejharin had taken his army, having brought them across the Ebons at Twisted Pine Pass. Eliani peered at the steep, broken slopes they must have descended to reach the plain, and her respect for Dejharin increased.

Vanorin started forward again, and Eliani followed slowly, her gaze still drawn to the looming mountain. The sun was near the horizon now, and a filmy haze
began to dim its brightness once more. Fog clung in hollows of the cliffs below, ready to spread across the mountains again when evening fell.

Kobalen dwelt in those lands, but they were not the only danger there. The alben also dwelt west of the Ebons. They had a city, Kelevon had said—and a leader who had sent him to deceive the Ælven Council.

A sudden cry rang out from behind Eliani, echoing against the rocks as a rumbling, sliding sound followed. She turned and watched in horror as the trail collapsed beneath one of the horses toward the rear of the party, a frightened guardian sliding after it down the slope.

Shouts of alarm filled the air. Vanorin brushed past her. Eliani handed her reins to Ghithlaran, then followed the captain back along the trail, hastening past horses and guardians. She came near to losing her own footing in her haste to reach the collapse. Vanorin stood beside another Greenglen male—Sunahran—and called down the mountainside.

“Verashi!”

Sunahran peered down, frowning. “Do you see her?”

A frightened whinny rose from below, setting up a nervous answer among the rest of the horses. Eliani reached the collapse and leaned forward to stare down into the dust and shadow of the slope.

Hands caught her arms and pulled her back. She turned her head and saw it was Luruthin, his face pale and his brow furrowed with dismay.

Vanorin called out again. “Verashi!”

“Here.”

The response was faint. Vanorin dropped to his knees beside the trail, peering down through the gathering dusk.

“Are you hurt?”

“A l-little. I turned my ankle.”

“Do not move. We will lower a rope.”

He stood and took a rope from the saddle of the nearest horse. With Sunahran’s help he tied it to the saddle, then made a sling to send down to Verashi.

Eliani looked up at the trail beyond the collapse, where three guardians stood with their horses, staring helplessly back at her and their other companions. She glanced at the sun and saw its lower edge now flattened. She had never seen such a thing before, and it took her a moment to realize the sun was starting to pass below the western horizon. She turned to call to the guardians cut off by the collapse.

“Gælvanin, you three go back to Althill! Tell them what happened. Tell them Ghithlaran is safe. He will come with us and return by the North Road.”

Gælvanin hesitated, looking at the two others with him, one a Greenglen and the other a Stonereach like himself. He took a step toward Eliani, and the ground a short way before him gave, sending another slide of pebbles and dirt down the mountain. All three hastily moved back. Looking unhappy, Gælvanin made a stiff bow.

“Yes, my lady.”

She watched them turn away. Vanorin put a hand on her arm. She looked up at him and saw his brow knit with concern.

“I must ask you to move forward on the trail. The ground here is still unstable.”

“Yes.” She looked at Luruthin and the others crowded near. “All of us should move.”

She led the party northward, slowly bringing the nervous horses away from the slide. When she reached Ghithlaran, she found him looking pale and alarmed.

“Did someone die?”

“No, no. The trail collapsed and one guardian fell, but Vanorin will bring her up again.”

She said nothing of the horse, which most likely would have to be abandoned, killed out of mercy whether or not it was injured. Verashi would have to do it once she was secured with the rope.

“You are trapped with us for a little longer, I fear.” She smiled at Ghithlaran, hoping to distract him. “Are we far from the crest of the pass?”

He shook his head. “Not far at all. See that crag where the two pines stand?”

Eliani nodded, though “stand” was not the word she would have used. The two trees were large, so they must be old, but they seemed to cling tenuously to the rocks, their limbs twisted back by years of punishing wind.

“Lead on, then. Show me these springs you promised. I hope they are hot.”

“Very hot, mistress.”

The glint in Ghithlaran’s eyes and his sudden grin showed she had succeeded in distracting his thoughts. Young rogue. He was probably imagining her unclad.

When they reached the two pines, she looked west once more, in time to see the last misty glint of the sun sink below the strange, flat horizon. The trail had curved, and she could now see Vanorin and Sunahran slowly hauling Verashi up the slope.

The fallen guardian looked rather battered, covered with dust and a dark smear of blood here and there. Her saddle packs and fodder net were slung over her shoulders, and she used one foot and her free hand to steady herself against the slope, the other foot hanging limply as she held it away from anything that might touch it.

Eliani held her breath until Verashi was up, hauled the last armspan by the two males reaching down to grab her. They pulled her upright, and Verashi winced as her injured foot touched the ground.

A cheer rose up from the watching escort, but Eliani quickly hushed it. “Noise might set more of the slope to collapsing. Come, let us make room for them.”

Vanorin and Sunahran lifted Verashi onto the waiting horse, then started forward to join the party. Breathing relief, Eliani turned away and stepped between the two gnarled pines.

Tall rocks closed in about her, cutting off the wind. The air was thin and cold, and with night falling she saw her breath misting before her.

The trail grew level, then began to descend. The narrow valley through which they walked opened out, and trees began to appear, pines standing tall, as they should, untroubled by the vicious winds to the west.

Ghithlaran looked back over his shoulder. “Not far now, mistress. There is a good camp near the springs.”

Stars were glinting between the treetops by the time he led them into a large clearing against a wall of gray rock surrounded by forest. A trickle of running water sounded nearby. Eliani spied a small cascade, no more than a rod high, falling down the face of the rock.

Ghithlaran pointed northward along the foot of the bluff. “The hot springs are that way. A short walk.”

“How many will they hold at once?”

“Oh, a good ten, mistress. Shall I lead you there?”

Eliani saw Vanorin coming toward her. “In a little while. Take some of the others first.”

Vanorin looked worried as he stopped before her. “Will you come and look at Verashi’s injuries?”

“Of course. She has more than one?”

“A few scrapes. It is the foot that concerns me. I fear it may be broken.”

Eliani winced then nodded. Vanorin led her toward the waterfall. Verashi was sitting beside the small pool at its base, her back against the rock, huddled in her dusty cloak with her legs stretched out before her. Sunahran was nearby, building a fire from a scatter of kindling and pine cones.

Eliani knelt before the injured guardian, peering at her face. One cheek was scraped, and her hair was tangled and smeared with blood.

“You gave us a fright, Verashi.”

Verashi smiled weakly. “Myself, also.”

“I am sorry about your horse.”

The guardian frowned and gulped, and sudden tears slid down her cheeks. She looked down, blinking.

“I do not know why I should be so upset. Its legs were broken; it would not have survived.”

Eliani reached out a hand to grasp Verashi’s left shoulder. Warmth leapt up within her palm. Verashi drew a shuddering breath, then grew calmer.

“May I look at your ankle?”

Verashi nodded and drew her left leg up out of the way, leaving the right lying limp along the ground. “It twisted when I fell. I cannot put weight on it.”

Eliani folded her legs beneath her and peered at the injured ankle. It was swollen enough to make the soft leather of Verashi’s boot taut. A bad sign.