Heart of the Exiled (49 page)

Eliani—

I know, but I must help them!

The hinges of the gate stood out from the wall. She stepped on the lowest one and hauled herself up, climbing swiftly. Clinging to the topmost hinge, she raised her head to look over the wall.

Vanorin and several others stood in a small cluster, swords outward, surrounded by a circle of alben, twenty or more of them. Three had swords; the rest held nets or bows.

One of the sword wielders stood before Vanorin. The Greenglen lunged toward his opponent, sweeping his blade in an arc that clipped the alben’s sword arm. With a cry the alben dropped the weapon and stepped back. His neighbor lifted the sword.

Eliani dragged her eyes from the fighting. She could not watch; she had to help them somehow. The alben outnumbered Vanorin and the others, and more were coming, running down the avenue from the center of Ghlanhras.

The alben had mostly nets and a few bows. She knew the bows would burn.

She unfocused her gaze, concentrating on the khi of the nets. She put a hand to the net at her hip, feeling its fibre, then searched the circle of alben below for the same fibre.

Yes. She had it. The nets felt soft, faint whispers of khi from the plants that had gone into them, with hard glints of metal from the leaf-shaped weights. An
alben threw one, and Eliani had a strange, vague sensation of floating. She shook it off, narrowing her focus to one thought.

Burn.

Voices rose in shouts of alarm. Her gaze was unfixed, but she saw spots of gold suddenly flame upward in an uneven ring. At its center, her escort. They stood still for a moment, then as one they dashed for the gate, pushing through the fiery circle.

Cries of pain filled the air. Some of the nets were in the belts of the alben, burning—

Eliani turned her mind to the bows. She fixed her gaze on one, capturing the essence of its fibre—light wood, a breed unknown to her, the same as the watcher’s bow had been—and sought out all the similar khi she could find. Drawing khi from the very air around her, she sent heat flooding out into the wood.

More fire. More cries of distress.

A heavy thunk vibrated through the gate and the hinge beneath her feet. She scrambled downward, felt the hinges begin to shift, and jumped to the ground.

One gate swung inward. Cærshari dashed out of it, followed by the others. Eliani ran to join them, falling in beside Sunahran, who gave her a startled glance.

“Eliani!”

“Keep running!”

She had no breath for more. She felt light-headed and focused all her strength on keeping her feet and getting away down the road. Shouting continued behind her but quickly faded. She dared to hope the alben would not pursue.

An arrow whipped past her head, breaking that hope.

“To the right!”

Vanorin’s command heartened her. She turned with the others and skittered to a halt at the side of the road, hard against the dark wall of the forest.

Gasping for breath, Eliani looked northward, surprised at how short a distance they had come. The gate of Ghlanhras stood ajar, and within she saw flame. Without, dark figures were advancing.

An arrow crashed into the forest above her head. She flinched.

“Bows!” Vanorin’s voice was hoarse. “Answer them!”

Only five of the escort had bows. All of them stood forth, aiming arrows toward the alben.

Arrows would burn.

Eliani frowned in concentration. She did not want to set the bows of her friends alight, nor did she trust herself to alter more than one arrow at a time. She chose the arrow nearest her and, when Mærani loosed it, twisted the khi of the slender shaft into a flame that sped away toward the alben.

A scream rose from the north. Eliani lit two more arrows as they flew, then called to Vanorin.

“Run!”

They ran. Eliani’s side began to ache. The alben’s boots were slightly loose and threatened to trip her. She began to think she must stop, then a bridge rose before them, one that crossed a small stream she remembered from their journey in.

Their feet thundered across the darkwood. On the far side Vanorin halted them. He returned to the bridge, standing in the center of its slight rise, facing north.

Eliani dropped to the ground, gasping for breath. Her throat was dry, and she reached for the skin at her belt, then frowned at it.

An alben had drunk from it. Was there danger of passing the curse that way?

She flung the skin away into the woods.

Vanorin turned. “They are not pursuing.”

Eliani scrambled down the stream bank beside the bridge. She splashed cold water on her face and drank deeply. Vanorin joined her.

“My lady—forgive me—”

“Vanorin, if you call me that again, so help me—”

“I failed you.”

Eliani stood, ignoring the mud on the knees of her now torn and sodden silks, and gestured toward the others in the road. “You brought these guardians out alive. That is no failure.”

He glanced toward the escort. “I did not bring them all.”

“Enough, though.”

He looked back at her, frowning in grief. “We saw you running across the rooftops. We tried to follow but lost you in the city.”

“I came over the wall.”

“It was you who set the alben’s nets alight.”

“Yes.”

A look of troubled wonder crossed his face. “I would never have thought of that.”

Eliani climbed the stream bank, muscles complaining, and faced the handful of guardians that remained of her valiant escort. Eight of them and Vanorin. All turned weary eyes to her.

“We must go back.”

Vanorin protested. “We must get you to Woodrun, m—Eliani. We can send help from there.”

“Luruthin is in Darkwood Hall. And Governor Othanin. We must get them out.”

“That is folly. There are hundreds of alben.”

“So we wait until morning.”

Vanorin leaned back, his eyes full of dread. She saw a swallow move his throat and continued her plea.

“In daylight, they cannot follow us. We go in the way I came out—over the wall and across the palace roofs. There are high windows all through Darkwood Hall. All we need do is open them, and the alben will not be able to pass through the light they let in.”

Eliani looked at the faces of her guardians. Stone-reach and Greenglen, but that mattered little now. They had a common foe.

“We bring Luruthin and Othanin out of the palace. Then we go to Woodrun.”

Eliani—

Luruthin helped me escape. Now I must help him
.

Vanorin was staring at her, doubt and admiration warring in his eyes. At last he nodded.

“Very well. Tenahran and Jæthali, stand watch. Alert us of any movement beyond the bridge. We go in at dawn.” He bent to pick up a twig from the side of the road and offered it to Eliani. “In the meantime, show us the shape of Darkwood Hall.”

Grinning, surrounded by her bedraggled guardians, Eliani squatted to scratch her battle plan in the dirt.