Trinity Rising: Book Two of the Wild Hunt (Wild Hunt Trilogy 2) (41 page)

‘You mean before Savin does.’ Even saying the name was painful. It clawed at Gair’s throat like a fever-cough.

‘Yes. The damage he could do with it is incalculable. He could rip a hole in the Veil wide enough to expose the whole Hidden Kingdom, and he could keep it open, destroying the balance between worlds for ever. We can’t let that happen.’

I can’t let him live
.

Shahe’s muzzle nudged at Gair’s hand. He looked down and saw his knuckles gleaming white on the bucket’s leather strap. It took an effort to relax his grip and lift the bucket up for her. She drank noisily.

‘Then let’s get on with it,’ he said, offering the remaining water to Alderan’s grey.

He felt the old man’s eyes on him as he folded and stowed the bucket and swung himself onto Shahe’s back, but no words were spoken. Just as well. He did not think he would have been able to answer Alderan civilly with such a foul taste in his mouth.

24

INTO THE SNOWS

The chill gouged Teia to the bone. She had dressed as warmly as she could, but the winter mocked her layers of fur and sealskin, pinched her heavy breasts until she wept and then froze the tears to her lashes. Her hands and feet ached as if her marrow had turned to ice, every muscle so stiff with the cold she could not even lift her head to look beyond Finn’s drooping ears at the endless white.

She would find no rest here. No shelter, no safety from the winter. For three days she had pushed on into the teeth of its spite, knowing she had gone too far ever to go back before she had even left the caves. Her family’s fate, the fate of her entire people, was in Ytha’s hands now. Or Maegern’s. She had rolled the bones and lost. There was nothing left to do now but go on, into the maw of the wind, and follow the frigid stars east to the pass that would take her into the Empire.

If she had kept quiet, swallowed her fears and been the dutiful daughter, she would be warm and snug beneath her furs this night, not plodding through snow that was belly-deep on her horse with a glassy crust that cut skin like a blade. She would have a fire on which she could make soup, perhaps even a wedding to look forward to that would secure her status and her family’s for as long as the chief lived. Instead she had this world of snow and sky and wind and only the vast darkness for company.

Finn stopped. Teia saw nothing ahead but more snow and the shoulders of the mountains rearing up, even blacker than the night behind them. She squeezed her calves into his ribs to urge him on. He whickered but stood his ground. Teia tried again.

‘On, Finn,’ she urged. She could hardly say the words, her cheeks were so stiff. ‘Come on.’

Finn tossed his head, chewing his bit. His ears flickered back then forwards and his feet shifted restlessly in the snow. Why was he being so stubborn? A few miles more and they would be far enough away that Drwyn’s scouts would not bother to pursue her and now her stupid horse was balking. Did he want her to be caught? They would drag her back to the caves for sure, to Drwyn’s fists and Ytha’s spite, and that she could not allow.

Forcing her sluggish muscles to work, she kicked her heels hard into Finn’s sides. The horse shied and her numbed fingers nearly missed their grip on the saddle horn. She kicked again. ‘Get on, you stubborn lump!’

Finn leapt forwards and plunged up to his chest in black water. Chunks of ice fountained around him as he forged on, staggering and stumbling when the cold current beneath the ice threatened to drag him under. Teia yelped, feeling the water soaking her boots even as terror gripped her heart in a fist. The river! It would be the death of him in this cold, and of her, too. Clamping her hand around the saddle horn, she yanked his head back the way they had come. Somehow he found the strength to lunge up onto the bank, hitting his knees in the snow and surging back to his feet, shivering and rolling his eyes.

Now Teia could see the sinuous track of the river winding beneath the snow, a barely perceptible dip in the otherwise featureless plain. Macha’s ears – she had to do something for him, and quickly. Quickest of all would be to use her gift to create warmth, but she wasn’t sure how – and didn’t dare waste time experimenting, or risk charring her horse’s hide to a crisp if she succeeded too well.

Heart pounding, she dismounted and fumbled at the blanket-roll tied behind the saddle. Her hands were clumsy on the knots; she dragged her mittens off with her teeth and attacked the fastenings with bare hands, trying to loosen them before the cold stiffened her fingers to uselessness. At last the thongs came undone and the blanket billowed open. She gathered it up in big handfuls and started rubbing Finn’s legs down as briskly as she dared.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she told him over and over as she worked. ‘I’m so sorry, Finn. You knew – you knew the river was there and I ignored you!’ Hind legs, forelegs and back again; her hands soon numbed to claws but she kept working: if her horse dropped with cold-water shock it really didn’t matter whether or not she could feel the reins. Her teeth chattered. The icy wind pushed its fingers into the smallest gaps in her clothing and its touch made her shudder. Cursing her stupidity, she dragged herself on her knees around to Finn’s forelegs again, rubbing and rubbing and praying to Lord Aedon to take pity on him and blast her for a fool.

Eventually the thick blanket tumbled from her grasp. Panting with exertion, she tried to pick it up again but her hands wouldn’t grip, despite the warmth at her core that had sweat prickling under her breasts and down her spine. She sat on her heels to catch her breath. Finn stood beside her with his back to the wind, head down but eyes alert. He didn’t appear to be shivering too badly, but they had to find shelter soon.

Macha, her hands were so cold! She tucked one into the opposite armpit and pawed through the snow with the other for her dropped mittens. They’d blown a little way off; she’d have to walk or crawl to fetch them. She tried to lever herself onto her knees but her legs were as stiff as dried elk-meat.

Twisting around, she grabbed for Finn’s stirrup. Maybe she could pull herself up that way. She scrabbled at the leather but her cold-stiffened fingers slid uselessly off it, unable to get a purchase. She tried again and managed to shove her numbed fist through the stirrup far enough that she could pull down with her wrist. It was sufficient leverage, just about, but Macha’s ears, it hurt. Sobbing, she hauled one knee up, got one foot under her. Movement forced blood back to her muscles, making them burn and throb. Cold wind stung her wet cheeks like a slap and she realised she was weeping. Leaning on the stirrup again, she lumbered to her feet. More tears; she was helpless to stop them spilling over with pain or relief or a little of both. She was up, she was moving and by the Eldest she would go on.

Picking the blanket up took two attempts. Getting it slung over Finn’s back took two more, then she staggered off in pursuit of her mittens, towing the big dun after her with a fist knotted in the blanket around his neck.

‘Good lad,’ she panted, lugging her unresponsive feet through the snow. ‘Good lad.’

She caught her mittens as they flopped and flapped in the wind by stamping on them. Shook out the snow, forced them over her clawed fingers. Turned Finn towards the hills and kept walking, one unsteady step after another. Keep moving, that was the key. Keep moving, and eventually they’d find somewhere out of the wind to rest.

Cold. So cold. The pale snows looked endless, too deep for either of them to run. It was difficult enough just to walk. Ahead the white-cloaked shapes of the hills marched ever away from her, shoulders hunched and backs turned. Teia swayed, leaning on Finn’s shoulder to stay upright. They never appeared to draw any closer. She would die out there. Die for her pride and Ytha’s folly and change not a whit of the clan’s doom.

Oh gods, let me sleep
.

Finn stumbled and fell heavily to his knees, knocking Teia from her feet. Numb hands scrabbled for the reins, for a handful of mane, anything to stop her fall, but it was too late. Something struck her head and the stars spiralled into darkness.

Pain. Pounding in her head, her blood throbbing in her ears. If she could feel that much pain, she couldn’t be dead, could she? Macha’s ears, it
hurt
.

Someone lifted her eyelid. Bright firelight stabbed her eye and Teia twitched her head away from it. Movement intensified the pain and she groaned.

‘She’s awake.’

‘Macha be praised! I was right feared for her.’

‘What about the little one? Will the child be all right?’

Too many voices. Too loud. Teia tried to raise her hands to cover her ears but she couldn’t lift them from her sides. Something warm and heavy kept them pinned and she was too weak to shrug it off.

‘You rest there,’ said the first voice that had spoken. ‘I’ll fetch you something to drink.’

Footsteps. Movement. The crackle of a fire and a low, animal sound. Horses?
Finn!
She forced her eyes open but could see little more than dark shapes in the flickering orange light. A woman’s face appeared above her, brown and wrinkled as a dried berry, framed by stringy, greying hair.

‘Finn?’ Teia managed. ‘Is he hurt?’

‘No, lass. Your baby’s fine, far as I can tell.’ The woman, first-voice, smiled, revealing a missing tooth.

Stupid woman. ‘Not the baby. My horse!’

‘Weren’t no horse when Baer found you. All on your own, you were.’ No Finn? The woman turned back the blankets that had been tucked around Teia and eased her into a sitting position.

‘Here now, you drink this and you’ll feel a mite better.’

Steadying Teia’s head with one hand, she brought a cup to her lips. The first taste told Teia what herbs the drink contained and she spat it straight out.

‘No.’

‘Come on, lass, it won’t hurt you. It’s for the pain.’ The woman brought the cup up again. The more Teia struggled to turn her head away, the tighter the grip on the back of her neck became.

‘No!’

Flailing her arm, she managed to dash the cup away, spilling some of its contents. ‘That’s crowsfoot – it’ll make me sleep.’

Fresh pain bloomed through her skull. She put up her hand and felt a rough bandage around her head.

‘Yes, yes, sleep,’ the woman prattled in a sing-song voice, as if she was speaking to a child. ‘Sleep’s what you need, a nice long rest . . .’

She proffered the cup again and Teia fended her off clumsily, her other hand held to her throbbing head. If she drank crowsfoot with a head injury, she’d probably never wake up again. The woman might as well have offered her bitter aconite to drink.
Macha’s mercy, it hurts!

‘. . . and then you’ll feel better—’

‘
No!
’

She shoved the woman away again and tried to swing her legs around, get them under her. Her vision swam then settled, wobbling with every pulse of pain behind her eyes. With a bit more effort she succeeded in kicking off the blankets, though her limbs felt only marginally under her control. More pounding in her head followed the exertion, nausea churning her stomach. Macha’s ears, maybe she should lie down again, as the woman was urging. No. She couldn’t sleep. She had to find Finn.

Teia squinted into the leaping shadows. A cave. Low-roofed, but deep enough to accommodate perhaps twenty people, huddled in small groups around bundles and baskets. Silent, unreadable silhouettes against the fire burning in the cave-mouth, they kept their heads down, looked neither right nor left, as if they were too exhausted to spare even the energy it took to be curious. The only faces she could see were those of the woman kneeling next to her and two others crouched close by.

‘Where’s my horse?’ she asked them.

‘Must have wandered off. Weren’t no horse when Baer found you—’

‘Leave off, Gerna!’ said one of the other women, pushing forward. ‘She’s tired of walking, wants your horse for herself. We’ve only two, see? We have to take turns.’

She glared at Gerna, who tossed her stringy hair and retreated into the shadows, taking her cup of crowsfoot tea with her.

‘Lazy old baggage,’ the woman muttered. Her companion stifled a giggle with her hand and Teia realised she was much younger, though the gloom made it difficult to guess her age.